Different City
by wentworth360
Summary: Different Origins, different first encounters
1. Chapter 1

Different City

Gotham

Her name was Dinah Laurel Lance aka Black Canary. So far in her young life, she'd been a daughter of crime fighters, mercenary, government agent, wife and accused murderer. There's an old saying about living in interesting times and for someone in her twenties, Dinah had certainly done that.

Those interesting times had come at a cost. The murder she was accused of was her husband's, Kurt. Her time working along side him in a secret government team had taught her all about duplicity, lies and the shadow world of government black ops. The toll was something she was still dealing with. She'd lost her innocence, the man she loved and much of her faith in the institutions the rest of us take for granted. On top of everything else it seemed she had the Meta gene. Control wasn't something she'd managed yet and the guilt over the part her cry had played in Kurt's death wasn't helping.

She was wounded, but they were the type of wounds where the scars weren't easily visible from the outside. A fugitive, she'd returned home to Gotham City to try and reassemble the fragments of her ruined life. Her personal side had shut down, but years of training and a sense of responsibility drilled into her from an early age by her parents meant she couldn't stand by and do nothing. What she found when she got home was that the city was better and worse. New heroes had emerged to fight the violence and corruption, but Gotham had a long history of resisting those sorts of efforts. If anything the criminals had gotten worse and were now part of the global community. If there was a dollar, yen or Euro to be made anywhere in the world on arms, drugs, terror or any other illegal activity, Gotham's criminals had a hand in it.

Dinah's parents had fought all their lives against this and now that she was home, she took up their mantle. She might be a fugitive from the government, the intelligence community and law enforcement, but that wasn't going to stop her from doing what she had to do. Some might call her a vigilante, but Black Canary was going to let her voice be heard.

* * *

Gotham Bus Station

The old streamline bus pulled into the rundown station. It was late, almost two in the morning and this part of town wasn't somewhere you wanted to loiter. The tired, fearful passengers emerged, glancing nervously around at the huge dark city, which seemed so ominous this time of night. They had all heard of the city's reputation, but for one reason or another they still came. They quickly rushed into the waiting room hoping their transportation was already waiting or would soon arrive.

The last passenger to get off the bus was different. A tall, lean, rather handsome young man, he stopped on the bottom step and looked at the huge city all around him. He smiled. At 22, he had just graduated college and was here to start his career. It had been a toss up whether to take the job as a stringer for the Daily Planet in Metropolis or the one at an Internet startup here in Gotham. Both would allow him to be a reporter, but this job wouldn't limit him to just covering one city. He'd been torn, as working for the Planet was rather prestigious, but the long-term outlook for newspapers wasn't good.

The decision had come down to one rather simple factor, money. He wasn't rich, so he had to take out a few loans and work his way through college. Now that he was finished with school that money was due. He'd been raised to pay what he owed, so he took the job that paid more. Hopefully he could clear his debt quickly and then his options would be open. The experience he got working here would help if and when the time came he wanted to move on. So while all the other passengers saw a forbidding city, he saw the opportunity to get free from all his obligations.

His name was Clark Kent and there was something else that made him different from all the other passengers. Clark had a secret. He wasn't originally from this planet. In all practical ways he thought of himself as a human and this was his home, but with each passing day he was reminded he was something more.

From what he'd been able to piece together from the ship that brought him to Earth and the records contained in it, he was born on a planet called Krypton. His biological parents, Lara and Jor-El had wanted to save him from the destruction of their world. He arrived in Kansas and was found by Martha and Jonathan Kent. They had raised him as their own. For most of his life he was like everyone else, oh, perhaps a bit stronger and healthier, but essentially the same.

From what the construct/hologram of Jor-El had told him he should have gained amazing powers by being on the lower gravity, yellow sun planet, but for most of his life that hadn't happened. The older he got Clark couldn't help wondering why it hadn't happened. Digging deeper into the records he thought he found the answer. When Krypton blew apart, fragments of it must have been caught up in the wake of his tiny ship. They arrived a few months after he did. People of Smallville still talk about the meteor showers to this day. The best explanation Clark could come up with was that something in those fragments had interrupted what Jor-El thought would happen.

Given the variables, it wasn't hard to see that so much of what had happened to Clark was fortune or by accident. He was sent to Earth, but where he would land was up to chance. Fractions of seconds or trajectories could have changed everything. So it wasn't that hard to imagine that things hadn't worked out exactly the way Lara and Jor-El had imagined they would.

It was Martha and Jonathan Kent that put it in perspective for Clark. They told him he didn't need special powers to make a difference in the world, just the desire and the will. If he were only a little stronger and healthier than everyone else, that would have to be enough. What he did with his life could still be important. He just had to find a different way then Lara and Jor-El had imagined.

He'd been more than a little disappointed. Who wouldn't be? Eventually he accepted that despite his origins, he was just like everyone else. He made his peace with it and moved on with his young life. He couldn't miss something he'd never had.

It was in the summer between his junior and senior years that the first changes happened. Long, hot days in the brutal Kansas sun seemed to energize him, where everyone else withered. They were only small changes at first; his senses seemed heightened, while he got stronger and faster. The only people he confided this to were his parents. They suggested that perhaps whatever was in those meteors wasn't permanent. Maybe Lara and Jor-El's theory about him on Earth had only been delayed.

He had to keep quiet about his growing abilities. A young man from out of nowhere suddenly being faster and stronger than everyone else raised a lot of eyebrows and questions. The Kents weren't wealthy people. They had done their best to cover up who Clark really was, but their best efforts couldn't stand up against the kind of scrutiny that might come. Their greatest fear was that one-day someone from the government or the military would come and take Clark away. They would never see him again and probably face charges themselves. For all their safety, the best course of action was to not draw attention.

They got to watch him graduate and there were no prouder parents at the ceremony. Things were tight, but they had been saving for his college. Clark took a year off to work and save some additional money. It was during that year that he lost both his parents. It was still the saddest day of his life, but he'd made a promise to them he'd go to college and finish. He kept this promise.

His college years flew by. He'd rented out the land around the house, but that didn't cover much. He always had odd jobs during the school year and then full time jobs in the summer. In some ways he was your typical college student, always poor yet always on the go. Quietly he continued to get stronger and faster. His skin felt the same, but somehow harder, denser. He was now stronger than just about any normal human on the planet. What he would do with these new gifts, he still hadn't worked out.

As he stood in front of the bus terminal, Clark knew his adventure was just starting. He hardly looked like anyone special, dressed in jeans, work boots, leather jacket and a tee shirt with the logo of his Kryptonian family on it. It had been a gift from Ma and Pa Kent on his graduation. It was to honor his origins and remind him how far he'd come. Clark liked it and wore it as a tribute to both his families, the one he'd never known and the one that raised him and gave him the shirt as a gift.

Grabbing his bags, Clark started walking away from the bus terminal. He began work tomorrow and had rented a small room in East Gotham. Until his first paycheck things were going to be a little tight. No use wasting money on a taxi when he could walk the mile or so to his new place. A smile on his face, Clark headed out into the night.

* * *

Gotham

A robbery gone wrong had turned into a high-speed chase through the city. The thieves had more firepower than brains and were creating havoc in their wake. Several police cars had already been disable and there looked like a chance the robbers might actually get away. They almost started congratulating themselves until they saw the gorgeous blond on the motorcycle behind them.

Dinah had heard the report of the chase. It was moving her way. She was going to make sure it ended as she jumped on her bike and headed out. Now she had them in her sights. They were driving wildly, but heading towards East Gotham, the worst part of town, hoping to get away. She veered through the nighttime traffic, dodging bullets, cars and pedestrians. In the distance behind her she could hear the sirens, but they were falling behind.

Dinah knew she needed to herd the robbers away from the main street. Gunning the motor she shot ahead, dodging in and out of traffic and then using a ramp to fly into the air. She landed next to the car with a jolt and nearly lost her balance. The robbers had been so shocked by her jump they hesitated. As they started to bring their weapons around and train them on her, Dinah veered into the car, banging her bike against its side. She grabbed the nearest gun and yanked it from the man's hands, elbowing him in the face as she did.

She hit the brakes, just as a trail of bullets slashed in front of her. Raising the gun, Dinah squeezed the trigger chewing up the pavement next to the car until they made the turn she wanted them to make. With a smile she headed after them.

* * *

Clark heard the sirens and the gunfire in the distance. There weren't many people out of the street, just a few standing around a kiosk having coffee and chatting. A car suddenly burst around the corner going at an insane speed. It was up on two wheels and Clark could see it wasn't going to make the turn. It crashed into the park cars and then rolled over onto its roof. He was stunned just like everyone else.

Two things brought him and everyone else out of their paralysis. First the people in the car managed to get out and begin firing guns wildly. The second made even a stronger impression on Clark. A young, beautiful blond woman in a skintight outfit that showed off every one of her spectacular curves came around the same corner, flying through the air on a motorcycle. She was heading directly towards the gunmen. Clark was a little shock that this seemed to be her crazy plan the whole time. In midair she executed a back flip, as the motorcycle crashed into the disabled car. The gunmen scattered, wild eyed and desperate.

The other people on the street wisely scattered. Most of them had lived in Gotham their whole lives so this wasn't a first for them. Clark found himself moving towards the mayhem, not away. He was a bit transfixed by the blond as she attacked the gunmen, using some form of martial arts. It seemed effortless how she moved, avoiding the gunfire and countering. Two of the gunmen were down before they even knew it. The third opened fire; pouring every bullet he had left at her. The last gunman wasn't so heroic. He started running. He seemed to spot an older woman trying to get away and must have thought he had a hostage.

Clark made a decision and reacted.

* * *

Dinah dodged the hail of bullets, using the cover of the wreckage. She lamented her bike had taken so damage, but she was reasonably sure it would still work. What made this robber the most difficult was he was shooting blind, at everything and anything. She needed to take him out before he caused more damage. Feinting one way, she moved quickly over the wreckage and in one smooth move landed a perfect kick to the man's jaw. He went down immediately. There was one more and as Dinah turned and scanned the street she saw he was going towards a civilian. He was too far away for her to reach him before he got to the old lady. Damn it, I'm getting sloppy she chided herself.

"No!" Dinah shouted, hoping to distract him and perhaps delay him.

"I'll kill her!" the man shouted back, lowering his weapon and aiming at the old lady. Dinah started running, hoping against hope she would reach him in time, even though she knew she wouldn't.

Then something happened.

A tall young man wearing an S tee shirt and jeans was suddenly standing in front of the robber. Where the hell did he come from, Dinah wondered? Before she could process this, he grabbed the gun even as the robbery pulled the trigger. The bullets went flying, but now they were aimed away from the old woman. In the next moment the young man landed a left hook to the robber's jaw. He went down, the gun slipping from his hands. He didn't get up.

Dinah stopped ten feet away from the stranger. He was tall, almost a foot or more taller than her 5 foot 4. He was lean and she couldn't help noticing rather good-looking. Still he had been foolish to get involved.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?' She shouted at him.

"Helping." He replied.

"Why?"

"Because I could."

She wanted to ask him more questions, but the sirens were getting closer. She was still a fugitive. She looked back at the corner and then at the young man. He was smiling at her of all things. Dinah found herself returning it.

"Um, well, thank you," she finally said.

"You're welcome."

She kept looking at him, even though the sirens were very close now. Finally she snapped out of it.

"Okay, bye!" She said, and then started running back to her motorcycle. She pulled it up and started it. She gunned it and started down the street but stopped when she got along side him.

"Don't do anything like that again, you could have been killed!" She shouted. "Don't be a hero!"

"Isn't that what you were doing?" He replied, still smiling at her.

That damn smile is so distracting, Dinah chided herself, and those blue eyes don't help either. She needed to go.

"Just-Just be careful, whoever you are, okay?"

"Okay."

The first of several police cars came barreling around the corner. It was time to go, Dinah told herself. She gunned the bike again and headed off into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Meet & Greet

Gotham – East End

Clark hadn't waited around for the police to start asking questions. He'd reacted, that's all, let the gorgeous blond take all the credit, especially since she did pretty much all the work. Interesting place this Gotham City, he thought.

If you've ever been poor and have to find a place to live, you know your choices aren't that great. Clark had met one of the graphic designers at his new job, Jerry, after his interview and the guy had told him there was a place open in his building. It was cheap and clean, Clark took it sight unseen. As he neared the address he had written on a slip of paper he received something of a culture shock.

It wasn't that he was particularly naïve. Yes he'd grown up on a farm and went to school at a state college, but he knew the world wasn't all farmer's markets, bookstores and Starbucks. It was just that before arriving tonight the largest city he'd ever been in was a perhaps 600, 000. Gotham was several million. It wasn't as if the smaller towns didn't have bars and strip club, they did. Clark had even been to a couple in his life, although he always felt awkward at a strip club cause he was never sure where he was supposed to look. Someone is standing right in front of you, looking right at you while taking their clothes off, do you look them in the eye or what? Do you compliment the dancer on her dancing or her nudity? It was just an awkward situation all around.

So it wasn't that he didn't know about that side of life, just that in Gotham it was so right out there in your face, so to speak. People were out mingling on the street. Neon signs flashed Nude Dancers, Triple X Shows, Private Viewing Rooms, in amongst the garish bars and clubs, payday loan offices and all night eateries. Men were handing out flyers for the shows and both women and men approached Clark asking if he was looking for a good time. Every time one of the doors to the different clubs opened, he was assaulted by the music blaring out. He didn't think he'd ever heard Mötley Crüe's _Girls-Girls-Girls_ so many times from so many different directions in his life.

Politely as he could, he turned down all the offers that came his way and repeatedly explained he wasn't a narc or cop, until finally he found the building written on the piece of paper. Not for the first time, Clark worried he wouldn't be able to get into his new apartment tonight. He didn't want to dip into his already limited supply of money for a hotel room and now that he'd seen the neighborhood, he didn't want to spend the night sitting on the steps until morning.

Jerry had assured him there wouldn't be a problem, but now Clark was realizing he didn't even really know the guy at all. Running his finger down the list of names next to apartment numbers, he finally found Jerry's and pressed the buzzer. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He pressed it again, longer this time. Nothing happened. Clark stepped back and looked up at the windows of the ten-story building. Lights were on in several of them but he had no clue which one was Jerry's. Clark pressed Jerry's buzzer again, holding it in a long time, still nothing happened.

Now he didn't know what to do. He was standing with all his possessions in strange city just feet away from his new apartment but he couldn't get in. He could feel eyes on him, sizing him up from all around. He could only imagine what they were thinking, some hick from nowhere fresh off the bus. They probably weren't thinking that, but that's what Clark felt like. They were probably thinking easy target, newbie in the city, a mark for the taking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clark saw a group of young men walking towards him. They didn't look friendly. He didn't want any trouble, just to get in the building and maybe get some sleep before he had to start work tomorrow. In desperation, Clark stepped back again and looked up at the lighted windows. The top floor lights were all on, so he made a spur of the moment decision. He went back over to the buzzers and scanned the names. He didn't know any of them; so one name was as good as the next. He could feel the group of young men getting closer, so he just picked one at random. He pressed the buzzer next to the name S. Kyle.

He waited what seemed like forever before a voice responded through the intercom.

"Yes? Who is it?"

It was a young woman's voice. Clark pressed the intercom and started talking.

"Hi, my name's Clark, I'm the new tenant,' he began. "I was supposed to be let in by Jerry in 6B, but he isn't answering. It's late and I've just arrived, so I was hoping you could help me out and let me in, please?"

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Who are you?"

"Clark, I'm the new tenant."

Another long pause followed.

"You're not a cop are you?"

"No, could you please just let me in, I'd really appreciate it,' Clark replied, his voice growing a bit more urgent as the group of young men were only about ten feet away now.

"Why should I believe you?' The woman's voice asked.

"Look, ma'am, I've just got off the bus and Jerry's the only person I know,' Clark replied. "There's a group of guys walking towards me and I don't think they want to welcome me to the neighborhood if you know what I mean. Please, could you just let me in and I'll get Jerry to explain everything. Please?"

"Did you just call me ma'am?" The woman asked.

"I was just trying to be polite,' Clark replied. 'Could you open the door, please, Miss, ma'am, Mrs. whatever you want me to call you?"

"If this is some sort of game, you're going to regret it,' she fired back through the intercom.

"It's not a game or a joke, but you would be saving me from a fight, please?"

"Ma'am, Jesus.' He heard her say over the intercom. It was followed by a laugh. "All right, come on in."

Mercifully she pressed the button and the door unlocked just as the group reached the bottom of the stairs. Clark rushed through the door, banging his bags against his legs and the frame before shutting it. He could hear the group on the other side cursing and banging on the door, but he wasn't about to open it again.

Rubbing his shin, Clark shouldered his bags and started up the stairs towards Jerry's apartment.

* * *

The Warehouse District

Dinah had led the police on a merry chase and finally lost them down near the docks. She'd spent the last hour doubling and tripling back just in case someone was following her. Once she was sure she was safe, Dinah headed here. She pressed the remote control and the warehouse doors opened. She glided her motorcycle inside and closed the doors behind her. Home, sweet home, she thought, as she turned off the bike and unzipped her jacket.

The warehouse was in a dummy corporation name, but she owned it. Originally it had been meant just to store her things, but with a warrant out for her and a price on her head, it had become her hideout and base of operations. It wasn't exactly the Ritz, but it was safe.

Dinah did a quick check of her bike and saw she was going to have to replace several parts. Usually she would have done this first, but tonight she was tired and just wanted to relax. As she headed towards what passed as the living area, she heard the sound of the television. She was ready for anything, but figured she knew who it was. When she stepped around the corner and into the large open space her suspicions were correct, it was Ev Crawford or Starling, as she was known now.

They had met awhile back and had become friends. Ev liked to get involved in shady things, but Dinah had come to trust her. She didn't have many friends at the moment so she tended to overlook some things. Ev sat sprawled out on the couch, a drink in her hand and her boots off. Jet black, form fitting pants and a stripped vest comprised her wardrobe. This was augmented by her two shoulder holsters and what Dinah knew were loaded guns in each. Her gloves were off, so Dinah could see Ev's sleeve of tattoos that cover her left arm from her fingers all the way up to her ear. Her dark hair was in its usual ponytail and she looked very relaxed.

"Making yourself comfortable, I see,' Dinah said, announcing her presence in the room.

Ev finished her drink and started pouring another. She reached over and picked up another glass and filled it too.

"Just watching my girl on the news,' Ev said with a smile. She held up the glass for Dinah. "Gotham's newest hero, Black Canary, takes out four armed robbers all by her lonesome and then races off into the night avoiding the police. It must have been fun, but does she call her old friend to let her in on it? No."

"I was a little busy dodging bullets to send you a text,' Dinah replied, accepting the drink and dropping down in the couch next to Ev.

"I'll accepted that this time,' Ev stated. "They've been showing lots of shots of you driving away. I think the cameraman's a perv though; he seems to be focused on your ass the whole time."

"Is there a reason you're here?' Dinah asked as she took a sip of the liquor.

"Can't I just want to stop by and drink your free booze?"

"You do that anyway, so what's up?" Dinah said.

"Oh, just though you might be interested to know that one of those robbers you busted tonight has connections,' Ev said. "Apparently the kid's uncle is a made man and the kid was trying to make his bones tonight. Kind of a family dipshit from everything I've heard."

"So?"

"The uncle isn't going to take kindly to you getting his nephew arrested,' Ev replied.

"So another person doesn't like me, I think I'll live."

"Nice going taking out all four like that, by the way,' Ev offered.

"I only took three of them out,' Dinah quietly said, taking another sip of her drink.

"Three? Who took out the fourth?" Ev asked.

"Just some guy that was on the street."

"A civilian?'

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"He saved an old lady in the process,' Dinah offered, taking another sip.

"Just some guy did that?"

"Well, yeah, although he looked like he was in pretty good shape,' Dinah replied.

Something in Dinah's voice caught Ev's attention. She picked up the bottle and refilled both their glasses.

"So just what did this 'some guy' look like, Dinah?'

"Why?' Dinah said defensively.

"Just curious." Ev replied. She then tapped her glass against Dinah's. "Cheers!"

"Cheers."

They both took a drink.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What did he look like?"

"He was just a guy, okay,' Dinah said, trying to dismiss the subject.

"Oh, come on, he saved an old lady,' Eve replied, pressing for details. "Was he tall or short, fat or thin?"

"Tall, not really thin, more of a swimmer's muscular build,' Dinah offered. When she saw Ev's smile grow she knew she'd said too much.

"Interesting. So what did he look like?" Ev asked. "Since you noticed his swimmer's build you must have noticed his face too."

Dinah made a face at Ev, but she wasn't deterred. She kept nudging Dinah's shoulder, prodding her for details.

"Stop it. He was good looking, okay?" Dinah finally said. "Dark hair, really blue eyes and a nice smile, satisfied?"

"Well, look at you,' Ev said with a laugh. "I'd swear you're blushing. You liked this guy, didn't you?"

"I just saw him for a minute on the street, don't make more of it than it was,' Dinah countered.

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Dinah,' Ev stated. "You haven't shown any interested in anyone since Kurt died. Have you even had sex since then?"

"That's really none of your business, Ev!"

"I'll take that as a no, you haven't," Ev said, waving off Dinah's objections. "So are you going to see this guy again?"

"No! I don't even know who he is, okay? He was just some good looking guy on the street, don't make it more than it is!" Dinah protested. "He probably just got into town, I mean he had his bags with him and all."

"Yeah, you're not interested at all, are you?" Ev sarcastically said.

"No, besides, I'm a fugitive, remember?"

"Oh, that's right, but hey, I'm not a fugitive, at least not around here yet,' Ev replied. "He sounds like my type. So if you're not interested, say I find him what about me asking him out?'

"No. And just shut up, will you?"

* * *

East End

After banging on Jerry's door for almost a minute, Clark finally heard someone stir on the other side. There was a lot of shuffling around and banging before the door finally opened. A wave of patchouli hit Clark in the face almost gagging him. As strong as it was, it still didn't mask the other smell coming from the apartment.

"Hey! Clark Kent, when you get in?' Jerry said. "Come on in, I've got your keys around here somewhere."

"Um, thanks,' Clark replied, stepping inside and reluctantly closing the door. His eyes were starting to water and Clark couldn't help wondering if he was going to get a contact high just standing in the room. Again, it wasn't that he was unfamiliar with this smell, he did go to college after all, it was just that it was rather all encompassing in the smal apartment. "Do-Do you mind if I crack a window or something?"

"Knock yourself out,' Jerry said as he rummaged through his things looking for the keys.

Clark opened a window and leaned out. It wasn't much better as the exhaust from the Chinese restaurant next door seemed to vent directly towards the window.

"Found them!' Jerry cheerfully said. "Say, how come you didn't ring the buzzer?"

"I did, several times,' Clark replied.

"Sorry, I must have had the headphones on,' Jerry offered. "So how did you get in?"

Clark was still leaning out the window trying to get a little fresh air.

"I was desperate,' he said. "Some guys were make a move my way so I picked a window with a lights on and just pressed one of the buttons for that floor. A woman was nice enough to buzz me in."

"A woman? Which floor did you buzz, dude?"

"The top floor,' Clark replied. "A Miss Kyle was nice enough to let me in."

"Selina?" Jerry gasped.

"It said S. Kyle, so I guess."

"Unbelievable,' Jerry said with a shake of his head. "You must know how to sweet talk the ladies or something Clark, for Selina Kyle to do you a favor."

"Actually I think she let me in because I called her ma'am,' Clark admitted.

Jerry started laughing and once he started he couldn't stop. He slumped down into an large, old chair, his whole body shaking with laughter.

"Oh, shit man, you're killing me! You called Selina Kyle ma'am? You're lucky she didn't come down and kick your ass, dude!"

"I was just trying to be polite,' Clark offered. "She sounded nice enough over the intercom, kind of sweet actually."

This just sent Jerry into hysterics.


	3. Chapter 3

Chance Encounters

Gotham

The main problem with starting a new job, moving to a new city or just starting anything new is pretty much the same, getting up to speed. You don't know the rules, or the lay of the land yet. It's not that you're stupid, just that you don't know. It feels like you're running a million miles an hour just to catch up on things everyone else already knows.

Clark was the newcomer, the green horn, the hick from the sticks or whatever phrase you care to use for the new guy. He was the new guy in Gotham and the new guy at **Dérive**; the online magazine focused on both domestic and international arts, culture, and news topics. The publication was available free of charge in twenty-eight countries and was financed by advertising. It had music and video arms, as well as an Internet channel with over 2 million subscribers. It was the brainchild of three young men that had made their fortunes in the Dot COM era and wisely got out before the collapse of the bubble.

It was still in its infancy, so the offices were under construction in what had been a rubber glove plant. This meant to Clark's heightened senses there was always a feint smell of latex in the air. Most of the staff was far more liberal then Clark, but it was explained to him that the magazine wanted all points of view, as long as they stuck to the truth. That was important to Clark. He believed that a reporter's job was to present the facts to the public and try to explain what they meant. He wasn't interested in furthering some political agenda and hoped that anyone reading his reports wouldn't know what his private political views were.

It's easy to forget in this age of fragmented, niche broadcasting, but it's still a cool medium. You may be able to carve out even a sizable audience on some cable network or blog with hot, over the top rhetoric, but when you think about those few that transcend into the mainstream and achieve truly global success, for the most part you can't really say whom they've voted for or what exactly their political views are.

Johnny Carson spent 30 years on television and his ratings for late night have never been duplicated. At one point in his run on the Tonight Show he accounted for 25% of NBC's profits, he was so successful. Over the years others came and went, offering hipper, edger shows, yet when he retired he was still the King of Late Night. He understood the media as well as just about anyone and got that it was a cool medium. He was once asked why he never voiced his own personal or political views on his show. His response was why alienate half the audience? They buy beer; soap and cars just like the other half do.

The lesson Clark took from this was that a good reporter presents the facts and tries to give them some context, but always lets the reading or viewing public make up their own minds. The idea wasn't to be fair and balanced, but honest and assume the person on the other end wanted the truth no matter if it lined up with their ideology or not. It probably sounded idealist to some, but then again he was just out of college and his idealism hadn't been tested in the real world yet.

His first week had been a whirlwind. Between moving in and getting up to speed on his new job it left him little extra time. He'd gone up to the top floor the next morning to thank Miss Kyle personally, but apparently she kept odd hours. He decided to write a note of thanks and slipped it under her door.

He wasn't the only new hire at the magazine or the most noticed.

Vicki Vale had been lured away from one of the local television channels and would be featured as an anchor on the burgeoning video channel. It was her chance to get away from the gossip part of the business and use other skills besides her looks. He had briefly been introduced to her. She had been in Gotham most of her life and it showed in her polished, perfect manner, stylish wardrobe and flawless beauty. He was just a guy in a pair of new jeans and a work shirt like most of the other background people on the magazine. Even looking at his fellow employees, Clark knew he had some catching up to do as far as what was the current fashion. It wasn't that he wanted to become big city hipster or fashionista; he just didn't want to stand out as someone that just got off the bus.

It was during lunch with some of his new coworkers that he found out who the young blond woman he'd encountered that first night was. She was known as the Black Canary. Apparently she was wanted for murder and something of a well-known fugitive from both the local authorities and the government. It struck him odd that she would risk being caught to stop a robbery if she was who everyone said she was. Where he grew up someone that did what she did that night was called a hero. Clark suspected there was more to her story and he wouldn't mind finding out what it was.

He had to admit to himself he was a little taken with her. He also thought just maybe she'd liked him too. She had smiled and seemed concerned for his safety. He knew that was thin, but so far he'd been so busy working he hadn't really met any women other than the ones he was now working with. Some of them were very attractive, but he was the new guy. He didn't want to come off as a douche hitting on them his first week. Besides, he knew he'd never met anyone like the Black Canary. She had certainly made a spectacular first impression on him. How you find a wanted fugitive though seemed like something of a roadblock to getting to know her.

The other topic that everyone seemed interested in was the Batman. He had heard some of the stories before coming to Gotham but had always put them down as an urban legend. Now he was confronted with several people telling him the stories were true and some had even seen him. They described a half man/half bat figure straight out of some nightmare. He apparently prowled the night delivering his own brand of justice on the criminal element in the city. Clark wasn't sure what to believe. On the face of it the stories seemed pretty ridiculous, but who was he to question them? He was from another planet and seemingly was getting stronger everyday. What stories would people say about him if he showed what he was capable of or what he might one day be capable of?

Clark did notice one thing out of the ordinary. Whenever the subject of the Batman came up, Vicki Vale seemed to get very quiet. She never offered an opinion but always seemed to be paying close attention to the conversations. He couldn't help wondering if she was working on finding out whom the Batman was? For him, it really didn't matter. If some costumed vigilante wants to stalk around at night, more power to him. Clark was only here for the job.

* * *

Gotham - One week later

Living in a huge city can be both a blessing and a curse. The phrase _alone in a crowd_ is never more apt than in a large city. With so many people you become anonymous, just another face in the crowd. Depending on how much money you have, your world expands or shinks. The poorer you are the more your world becomes your apartment and the neighborhood. You watch on television things happening in other parts of the city, but they might as well be a million miles away.

For someone like Dinah a huge city and the anonymity that came along with it were a blessing. She still couldn't be reckless, but if she was careful she could blend in, become another blank face in the crowd. She never let herself become complacent or fall into patterns. That was the easiest way for those looking for her to find her. This was much more difficult than most people imagine.

Each of our lives eventually falls into patterns, circles and squares that we repeat over and over. Think of your route to work or to school, when was the last time you varied it? The restaurants you eat at, the grocery stores you shop at, the hangouts you have with your friends, where you sit at work or school, they all become the familiar, the predictable, a pattern. Tomorrow try changing up your own patterns just for one day and see how much effort it is not to fall back into the same circles and squares you normally make.

Now imagine doing it everyday and you get an idea of what Dinah was faced with. Her freedom and life depended on not being predictable. Tonight it was the East End, tomorrow it would be some other part of Gotham. What made this even more difficult was she had a lead on arms dealing being orchestrated in the city. Through the network of shadowy sources she learned of a courier arriving in town to do some shopping. She had been alternating with Starling tailing him all day. Dinah had passed him off to her partner a short time ago here in the East End. He was currently meeting with the Pengiun at his club and Ev was handling this shift.

It had already been a long day in a long week. Dinah was tired and hungry. She wasn't wearing any elaborate disguise, but was doing her best to blend in. This meant she was wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants, Doc Marten boots, a tee shirt, oversized black jacket and a ball cap. She had her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and the brim of the cap down low. She entered the small retro diner and picked a booth towards the back where she could see the exits and everyone in the place. She ordered some food and coffee and sat back.

The waitress had just brought her coffee when the door opened and he walked in.

It was the guy from the other night.

Dinah kept her head down and stirred her coffee. He shouldn't recognize her she thought, but no sense taking chances. She didn't look, as much as she wanted to. Moments passed and she was just starting to breath again when a shadow fell across her table. Shit, she thought, and then slowly looked up. He was standing right next to her table with that same stupid smile on his face.

"Hi," Clark said. "I was hoping I'd see you again."

Dinah wasn't sure how to respond. Rushing out or taking him down would just draw attention she didn't need. Besides he hadn't threatened her or anything. While she was trying to decide what to do, Clark slid into the booth opposite her.

"What-What do you think you're doing?" Dinah finally said.

"Well, most of the tables are full and I saw you seeing here alone, so I thought it might be nice to have dinner with someone for a change,' he replied. "I really don't know that many people in the city yet."

"You don't know me either,' Dinah fired back.

"I'd like to."

"Too bad, go away!' She hissed, trying not to raise her voice and draw attention to herself.

"Come on, isn't it better to have dinner with someone than sit here alone?' Clark asked. "I've been eating alone most of this week and it's getting depressing."

Before Dinah could respond the waitress came over and asked if Clark wanted to order. He did, much to Dinah's shock. He handed the menu back to the waitress and thanked her before turning back and smiling at Dinah again. As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, she found her voice again.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I didn't invite you to sit with me? Fuck off!"

Clark had been so excited to see her again, he hadn't really thought about how her reaction might not be a happy one. He suddenly realized how this must look from her point of view, he just comes barging in and sits down without even asking.

"I'm sorry,' he immediately said. "I didn't mean to be so forward. I was just excited to see you again. I'll move and again I'm sorry."

He started to get up and bumped the table nearly knocking her coffee over. Dinah could feel other customers were now looking their way. She knew she'd been a little harsh, but what did he expect.

"Again, I'm sorry, I just didn't want to eat dinner alone,' Clark said as he started to look for another seat. Now Dinah felt like a bitch for kicking him to the curb like she had.

"Wait, just sit down, will you,' she said.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes, sit down."

"Okay, thanks."

There was that smile again, she thought.

"Just so we're clear, it's dinner, that's it,' she stated flatly.

"Yeah, of course,' Clark replied. "I didn't mean to give you the impression otherwise. I'm Clark, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Clark,' Dinah replied, stirring her coffee.

"And you are?" He asked.

"None of your business."

"I know what they call you in the press, but I didn't want to use that in here,' he replied.

"Is that a threat?' She asked, suddenly on guard.

"What? Oh, no, of course not, I'm sorry if I gave you that impression,' he quickly said. "I'm screwing this all up, aren't I? I just wanted to know your name. I'm Clark, by the way."

"You already said that.' She pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess I did,' he admitted. "I'm a bit nervous."

This time Dinah smiled.

The waitress brought over coffee for Clark and refilled Dinah's cup before moving away again.

"Dinah."

"Hmm?"

"I'm Dinah, that's my name.'She clarified.

"Nice to meet you Dinah."

"You too, Clark."

"I didn't get a chance to say it the other night, but you were pretty spectacular," Clark offered.

"Thanks, what were you doing in that neighborhood at that hour anyway?" Dina replied.

"I just got into town about an hour earlier." He explained. "I was walking from the bus station to my new apartment."

"It was your first night in Gotham and you walked?" She asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I know, but it seemed like a better idea at the time,' he said. "I probably seem like a real rube to you, don't I?'

"A little bit, yeah,' she admitted.

"Thanks."

"You asked."

He dipped his head a bit self consciously and she smiled at this.

"So can I ask you something, Dinah?"

"That depends."

The waitress arrived with their food and they both thanked her. The conversation was put on hold as they passed the salt and pepper back and forth before digging in. Dinah held her knife and fork in her hands, slicing off bits of the homemade stuffed peppers, but she kept looking over at Clark. Seeing him up close like this, she guessed he was younger than she originally thought. He was also better looking then she originally thought too. He certainly seemed to have a healthy appetite she noticed, as he worked his way through the Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes.

"So what did you want to ask me?' She finally said. He finished the mouthful before replying.

"Why?" He said.

"Why what?"

"Why did you take the risk doing what you did the other night? It had to be dangerous for you and I'm not just talking about the robbers."

So he knew she was a fugitive, Dinah thought.

"For the same reason you did, Clark."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I asked you the same question and you said because you could,' Dinah replied.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I could do so I did,' she explained.

"But …" He started to object, but she cut him off.

"We all have a choice, Clark,' she began. "All around us life keeps happening. We can decided to take part or stay on the sidelines. I picked getting involved. I can, so I do."

"But doesn't that raise the risk for you? The more you do things like the other night the more people are going to notice you. Many might even fear you for the things you do,' he said.

"I could hide and do nothing, Clark,' she replied. "I could tell myself that someone else will handle it, but sooner or later I'd realize I'm just hiding from myself. The reasons everyone's after me are complicated and I don't want to talk about them. I could climb into a hole and protect myself, but if I did than those robbers would have gotten away. They might have killed people, if I did nothing. I have abilities, so I used them to try and help."

"Wow, you've really thought this out,' he said. He as more than a bit impressed by the passion she exhibited when she spoke. Her words seemed to echo in his mind.

"A lot of it was drilled into me by my folks,' Dinah admitted with a small grin. "They were very action oriented, you could say."

"Mine were farmers,' Clark countered.

This brought a laugh from Dinah.

"You're just pounding away at the hick stereotype, aren't you Clark?" She teased. "Where are you from, parts unknown?"

"Smallville."

"Shut up, you are not,' she said with a laugh.

"Afraid so,' he said with a grin. "I'm the archetype all the way, farmboy from a small town come to the big city."

"So you're here seeking fame and fortune, are you?' She asked.

"No, I just got offered a better paying job here than in Metropolis."

"You must really need the money to pick Gotham over Metropolis,'she replied. "Didn't you hear about Gotham back in Smallville?"

"Sure,' he admitted. "I figured it was bad, but since I got here I'm realizing it more than that."

"That's why I do what I do,' she offered.

"Well, it isn't all bad,' Clark replied. "I mean my first night here I got to see a beautiful young woman kick the crap out of a group of robbers. Can't see that back in Smallville."

It was an obvious compliment, but Dinah still liked it. She found she liked him, too.

They chatted a bit more as they finished their dinner. The check came and Clark offered to pay for both.

"You're poor, remember?' Dinah said, reaching for the check. Clark snapped it up before her though. She absently noticed he was surprisingly quick.

"Not that poor,' he replied.

"Well, let's go Dutch then," she offered.

"Next time,' he replied, calculating in his head just how much he had in his wallet.

"Next time?" She repeated, giving him a look.

He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders, smiling at being caught.

"Would it help if I said please?" he asked.

Dinah smiled for a moment, thinking how much she actually enjoyed having dinner with him, but then reality came rushing back. Her smile slipped a bit.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Clark,' she offered. "With everything going on, I .."

This time he cut her off.

"Don't say no, Dinah.'

He quickly wrote his name and number down on a napkin and slid it across the table.

"Call me if you want to do something or at least take the number and pretend you're considering it? You're the first woman in Gotham I've had the nerve to ask out, so let me down easy if you would."

Dinah didn't know what to say. Thankfully her phone went off and she knew it was Ev calling in.

"I've got to go, Clark, thanks for dinner."

Dinah impulsively leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek before heading out of the diner. Clark watched her go and then looked down at the table. She'd taken the napkin with his number on it.

* * *

Later

Clark started the climb the stairs to his apartment on the 7th floor. He could hear shouting and arguing but having been here a week he realized that was pretty much the routine. His mind was still on Dinah and what she'd said at the diner. She was a fugitive, an outsider and probably feared by a lot of people in this town, yet she didn't hide when trouble came. She said she did it because she could and those words continued to repeat in Clark's mind. As he reached the stairs up to his floor he saw two large men arguing with one of the other tenants. He'd briefly met her and remembered her name was Melinda. He saw that she was crying and pleading with the two men.

"I swear I don't have the money,' she said. "I'll get it tomorrow, I promise!"

"Fuck tomorrow, I want it now,' the bigger of the two men replied.

"But I don't get paid till tomorrow!"

"Do I look like I fucking care? You borrowed the money and now we're here to collect!"

"But I paid it all back, it's just the interest now,' Melinda cried. "I'll have it tomorrow, I promise!"

"You signed for the loan, honey, that means you pay when we tell you to pay."

The man raised his hand and Clark could see Melinda flinch. He realized her cheek was already red and swollen and knew they had already hit her more than once. Dinah's words about getting involved or staying on the sidelines came back to him. _"I get involved. I can so I do,' she'd said._

Clark knew he couldn't just stay on the sidelines, he had to get involved.

"Hey, there's no call for hitting her, she said she'd pay you tomorrow."

The two turned just as he stepped onto the landing of the 7th floor.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Mind your own business, it'll be healthy that way,'the other said.

"I'm sure there's a way we can work this out,' Clark offered.

"There is,' the bigger man said. "Fuck off!"

He gave him a shove. Clark hadn't been expecting it and lost his balance. He was still on the edge of the steps so his momentum sent him tumbling all the way down to the next landing.

'See we worked it out,' the big man said with a laugh. The two started to turn back towards Melinda, but Clark's voice stopped them.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss."

They watched him as he started back up the stairs. The closer he got, they both pushed back the sides of their jackets so he could see the guns tucked into the waist band of their pants.

"You must be stupid or something, guy."

As they reached for their guns, Clark beat them to it. He grabbed onto both their belt buckles and pulled. They went flying passed him, tumbling down the steps just as he had a few moments earlier.

"You son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you!" The big man scream, as he tried to get up. Clark held up both their guns.

"Not tonight,' he replied. "She said tomorrow, be happy with that. Now leave."

The two look at him and then at each other not sure what to do.

"This isn't over!"

"You better hope it is,' Clark warned. The two shouted obscenities, but started down the stairs.

Clark waited until they were out of sight and then turned to Melinda.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, thank to you,' she said with tears in her eyes.

Suddenly clapping drifted down from above. Clark and Melinda looked up to see a beautiful young woman with short dark hair leaning over the railing. She had a wicked smile on her face.

"I think I made the right call letting you in the building, Mr. Kent."


	4. Chapter 4

Leap of Faith

Gotham – The Warehouse District

Dinah Lance had already been so many things in her young life, hero, college student, government operative, fugitive and widow. Her experiences were varied and wide-ranging. The one area she was lacking practice in was dating. She'd met her husband when she was still basically a teenager. It was hard to remember a time when they weren't a couple. His death and her role in it had shattered her life.

As she sat on the couch in her warehouse/residence, she looked at the napkin with the number Clark had given her again. She'd been doing that a lot the past week. She wasn't sure what to do. She kept telling herself she was a fugitive and still grieving over the only man she'd been with, but it had been almost two years since he's death. She was still so young, only 24 and as much as she wished she could go back and change things, she couldn't.

Complicating matters was she found herself attracted to Clark. He seemed so different than any of the men she already knew. Of course in the line of work she was involved in that wasn't a surprise. It was almost laughable, she thought, her being attracted to him. She had grown up here in the city, traveled the world and seen things both good and bad most people didn't even know existed, while he was a sweet young guy straight off the farm. She was supposed to be a world-weary sophisticate and he was the fresh-faced innocent. That was the sort of thing that only happened in romance novels and always the other way around.

Say she did call him and they went on a 'date'. What would they do, she wondered? Dinner and a movie? Putt-Putt golf? Ice cream at the local malt shop? What do young men from small farm towns with names like Smallville do on dates anyway, she wondered? No it was stupid, she told herself, she wasn't interested in that sort of thing. She'd been married and was a widow already. And a fugitive, she couldn't forget that, she was a fugitive, so she should just put the whole idea out of her head.

All week she'd been having this running debate with herself. Even as she dismissed the idea, Dinah couldn't help doing her due diligence. She checked Clark Kent out. A warning flag went up immediately when she found out he was a reporter. She couldn't help wondering if this was all some sort of set up to get a story. A young, ambitious reporter getting the story on Black Canary would certainly boost his fledgling career and blow her cover here in Gotham.

That should have been enough to kill the idea, but Dinah dug a little deeper. Clark appeared to be just what he said he was, a farm boy from Smallville, Kansas. He was the only adopted child of Jonathan and Martha Kent. They had died in some sort of accident after his graduation from high school. He'd worked his way through a state college and graduated with a degree in journalism. Dinah even pulled up some of the articles he wrote while in college and had to admit he had some talent.

His tale about arriving that first night in Gotham checked out too. Videotape from the terminal showed him getting off the out of town bus just when he said he did. Dinah hadn't told Ev why, but had her check out Clark's apartment building. Ev reported back that she didn't find any connections to Dinah's past regarding the tenants, although she did mention some of them were rather interesting. There were some potheads, a couple of prostitutes, a blowup doll lover and a former dominatrix living in the building. None of those seemed to have any connection with Dinah's past. She doubted they had any connection to Clark either.

Dinah dropped the napkin with his phone number on the coffee table and stood up. She began to pace back and forth telling herself it was foolish and stupid to even consider it. She wasn't ready for a 'date' with anyone, even if he appeared to be exactly what he seemed to be, a nice, ordinary guy from a small town. The rational that she would be putting his life in danger just by being with her came and seemed to push her towards forgetting the whole thing. Women with her background and troubles didn't 'date' guys like him.

This of course raised the question who exactly does women like her 'date'? Since technically she'd never been on an actual 'date', she didn't know. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just try going on one 'date' with him to see what it's like, Dinah thought. She stopped pacing and picked up the napkin again. She didn't really need to look at it, as she had the number memorized already. No, it's too dangerous, she scolded herself, and you've got enough going on in your life you don't need to complicate it anymore.

The sound of her side door slamming caught Dinah by surprise. She been expecting Starling, but was distracted and hadn't realized the time. A little flustered, Dinah took the napkin and tried to hide it. Unfortunately the pants she was wearing had no pockets. As she heard Ev call her name, Dinah did the first thing that came to mind and stuff the napkin down the front of her top. She just finished as Starling came around the corner.

"Hey, I called you, didn't you hear me?' Ev asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, I heard you,' Dinah replied.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, why?"

Ev gave her friend the once over and then smiled. She moved closer to her and looked her in the eye.

"Well, unless you've decided to start stuffing your bra which we both know you don't need to, you have what looks like a piece of a napkin sticking out of it."

Dinah glanced down, but before she could correct the problem, Ev reached out and snatched the napkin.

"Hey!" Dinah protested. Ev turned and held the napkin out of Dinah's reach. She gave it a glance and then looked back at Dinah.

"Well, what do we have here, Di? A phone number?' Ev said with a smirk. "A guy's phone number at that, Clark Kent. Wait, where have I heard that name before?"

Dinah snatched the napkin from Ev's hands and crumbled it up in her right fist.

"It's nothing,' she offered.

Ev waved this off, trying to recall where she'd heard the name before. It took a moment but then it came to her.

"The apartment building you had me check out,' Ev said with a grin. "You were checking him out or having me do it for you."

"It wasn't like that,' Dinah protested, though it sounded hollow even to her ears.

"Right." Ev replied. Her tone was heavily laced with sarcasm. "I checked the building out, remember? I checked out the people that live in the building too. I seem to remember one of the tenants was tall, dark and handsome, with great blue eyes. That wouldn't be Mr. Kent would it, Dinah?"

"I guess you could describe him that way."

"How would _you_ describe him, Dinah?" Eve taunted.

"None of your business."

* * *

Gotham – East End

Clark finished another day of work. It was payday and after catching up on bills he still had some left over. He checked his phone again, knowing he hadn't missed her call, but somehow hoping it would be there. It wasn't. He knew it had been a long shot. It wasn't like he had any experience dealing with sophisticated, gorgeous crime fighters or anything, but he'd taken a chance. Even thought he was disappointed he knew he'd have kicked himself if he hadn't at least tried.

What really surprised him was how big an effect she seemed to have on him. It wasn't just that she might be the most beautiful woman he'd ever men, although that certainly hadn't escaped his attention. It was also what she'd said that night at the diner. Those simple words, _I do it because I can_ seem to have such an impact on him.

Back when he first found out who he really was and where he was from, Clark wondered what would happen if what Jor-El predicted had come true. Those sorts of abilities it seemed to him shouldn't just be squandered away, they had to be used. He thought many times about what he might do if he had them. When they failed to manifest themselves, Clark had turned his attentions to other pursuits. His dreams were of doing something useful, even if it was on a small scale. Human history was a series of stops and starts, some times falling back but eventually progressing. For all the horrible things happening, the world was a better place today then it was even fifty years ago.

It hadn't taken superhuman abilities to find the cure for polio or any number of other diseases that had ravaged humanity for thousands of years. Democracy, as flawed as it could be, was an advancement for the majority of the people over feudalism or dictatorship. In every field you looked at, amazing discoveries and advancements had been made. This wasn't to say that all the ills of society had been erased, they hadn't. What it did mean was ordinary people all over the world were working to make tomorrow better than today. That seemed like something he wanted to be part of.

Now though, those promised abilities were starting to manifest themselves. Everyday he felt stronger and faster. The tumbled down the flight of stairs hadn't left a mark on him, no bruises, nothing. His hearing and eyesight were improving too. Because of this, he realized that what happened with Melinda wasn't an isolated incident. Groups like the one that had approached him that first night were out there, claiming areas as their territory and using threats to extort money from anyone unlucky enough to be stuck within their borders.

Clark thought someone should do something. Dinah's words came back to him again. _I do it because I can_. Now Clark realized that he could too. What exactly he should do, he wasn't sure. Working at the magazine he was able to see all the statistics for crime in Gotham. The area right around where he lived had some of the highest numbers for violence. Robberies and assaults were a daily reality for the people of the neighborhood. He heard the gunshots every night. Maybe if he was going to do something, he should start right here in his new backyard.

The problem with starting anything new, for anyone, not just Clark, is actually doing it. Everyone has something they think about doing, but for one reason or another they never get around to actually doing it. Everyone has reasons, excuses, extenuating circumstances they use to justify why they don't do something new, but for the most part it usually comes down to fear.

Fear is the great inhibitor in most people's lives. They're afraid they'll fail or look ridiculous. They fear what others will say. They fear the results might just make things worse. They fear that deep down they're not good enough or smart enough or strong enough. Trying something new means taking a leap into the unknown, putting something at risk and most of us shy away from that.

Clark carried the Chinese take-out containers up to his apartment. He took a shower and changed into some casual clothes, a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. He heard the shouts coming from the alley seven stories below. Someone was being mugged or worse. He could also hear that just about everyone in the building was doing his or her best to ignore it. Televisions and stereos were turned up a little louder, hoping to drown out the screams. Suddenly he'd lost his appetite.

Slipping on his old work boots, Clark moved over and opened the window. Darkness shrouded everything but he could still see what was happening below. He stepped out onto the fire escape, invisible to everyone. Butterflies threatened to overwhelm his stomach. A million reasons flashed through his mind why he shouldn't get involved. Only one came telling him the opposite, _because he could_. Taking a deep breath, Clark leapt over the railing dropping down from seven stories up. He'd taken the first step into the unknown and where it would lead was anyone's guess.

* * *

Minutes later

He had no training to speak of, just speed and strength. It was enough tonight. The attackers lay unconscious all around him. The frightened but grateful victim had thanked him before running off. In the distance he could hear police sirens approaching. The dim illumination from the closest streetlight kept his face in the shadows, but the white tee shirt with the large stylized S on the front seemed to light up like a beacon.

His phone range and it startled him. It took a few moments of fumbling before he got it out of his pocket and answered it.

"Hello?"

A smile came to Clark's face.

"Hi, Dinah, no I'm not doing anything right now."

He listened for a moment.

"Okay, I'll see you than. I'm looking forward to tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

Summertime

Gotham – Warehouse District

Dinah hung up the phone. She had a small smile on her face. She quickly made it disappear as she turned and looked at a grinning Ev.

"So are you happy? I called him,' Dinah asked. "Now will you stop badgering me about it?"

Ev just continued to grin at her friend.

"Oh, shut up." Dinah said, pouring herself another drink.

* * *

Gotham – East End

Selina Kyle could be described in many ways. The list most thought of when they described her surprisingly had smart way down on it. That would be a mistake. For all her charms and allure, Selina had made it out of the hellhole she'd grown up in with her brains. Yes, her looks had helped, but they only got her so far. That she was independent, not beholding to anyone, spoke to a determination and guile that were the products of her intellect rather than her beauty. Even her newest 'profession' cat burglar wasn't something stupid people excelled at. It took attention to detail and the ability to think on the fly.

She was just returning from casing what might be her next job. It wasn't really, but it seemed like the obvious choice for her. It was a little game she played mostly with the Batman, but to some extent the police. She knew he would catch her if she honed in on one target, so she picked several. This gave her the advantage, as when she struck he would have to decide which of the ones she'd cased he would go to. Her margin of error was still slim, but that was the fun of it.

She was just about to make the final leap from the building next door to hers, when she saw the bodies laid out in the alley. It wasn't unusual to see people passed out there, but the way they were laying said they had been knocked out, not passed out. Her curiosity was peaked. Moving silently down to the ground, Selina recognized the group. She didn't know them by name, but had seen them around the neighborhood. Again, finding someone knocked out wasn't unusual either, but this group was. They weren't known for their courage and daring. They liked easy targets, the weak and the vulnerable for the most part. A scrape of what she took to be a woman's dress was still in one of their hands.

Standing in the center of their bodies, Selina tried to reconstructed what happened. That they had attacked a woman was obvious, given their M.O., but something or rather someone had intervened. Her first thought was of Batman, but it didn't have his signature on it. Whoever did this wasn't an experienced fighter. She could tell by the way the men were spread out. By the blows they'd taken though, she could imagine that whoever did this was rather powerful and fast. They had taken the group out quickly.

Another vigilante she wondered? Just what Gotham needed, someone else obviously inspired by Batman. They'd been lucky this time, but the city was too dangerous a place for amateurs to go running around playing hero. Still she had to admit, whoever did it picked the right people to beat up. This group was scum and deserved a good beating. As one of them started to stir, Selina gave him a kick and put him out again.

So there's a new hero in town, she thought. I wonder if he or she is as interesting as the Batman?

* * *

Gotham

Clark made it back to his apartment without anyone seeing him. Frankly, he was pumped. He'd never really been in many fights, just schoolyard stuff, which was mostly pushing and shoving. He was learning what anyone that's ever been in a fight and won knows, it's a rush. Adrenaline pulses through your veins and you feel almost invincible. It's probably why fighting is so popular; cause when you win it feels great.

He cautioned himself to slow down and not get too carried away with his first victory. He'd been lucky. They weren't expecting him and his speed and strength had underwhelmed him. Next time it might not be so easy.

Was there going to be a next time?

He hadn't really thought about it till this moment. He just couldn't stand by and do nothing as that young woman was attacked. He could, so he did. Now he had to ask himself was it a one-time thing or not? From his brief time in Gotham he knew she wasn't the only one being robbed or terrorized. The police seemed overwhelmed or indifferent to what happened in areas like this. Could he just ignore what was happening all around him?

He already knew the answer was no. He thought of a million reasons both pro and con, but in the end it came down to something simple. With his abilities he could do something, so he would. He was a part of this community now. It might seem like a small town idea, but he believed you help your neighbors and they help you. That was the only way things really got better. Yes, government and the police had their role, but if the citizens didn't participate then nothing ever changed.

He had to shake his head as the realization he was going to do this sunk in. He'd only been in Gotham a little over a week and already so much had changed in his life. But that's what moving to a new place was supposed to do, wasn't it? If he'd wanted the familiar he would have moved back to Smallville after graduation and worked on the farm. So something new was in the plans now, Clark thought. He wasn't even sure what you call what he'd done tonight. Was he a crime fighter? A hero? No, that wasn't what he was doing; he was just trying to help like anyone would if they could. He was helping, that's all. Let the mythical Batman or whoever do those other things.

So it was settled, Clark told himself, he was just doing his part to make it a safer and better place nothing more. It was the same as if someone had a flat tire and he pulled over to see if they needed any help, no different. It's what most people would do, except he was just offering his help in a different way. Now that he knew he was going to do it, that just left the nuts and bolts part of how to do it. He wasn't invincible and unlike tonight most of the criminals in Gotham had guns. If he didn't want to get shot, he'd better figure out something to prevent that.

Moving over to his closet, Clark started rummaging through some of the stuff he'd brought with him. It wasn't much, but some things had significance just to him. A smile came to his lips as he pulled out the red cloth that had been in the space ship that brought him to Earth. It had the symbol for the House of El on it and from everything he and the Kents had tried, it was pretty much indestructible. He thought of how he could use it, but trying to fashion it into a pair of pants and shirt seemed like a lot of work. Maybe just wear it as a cape he thought. Sure, it's not like you see guys running around in capes very often but it would make it easier to drape around his body in case someone fired a gun at him. It also had some pockets, so he wouldn't have to jam everything into his jeans and risk losing his phone and keys.

That decided he wondered what else he should do to create an alter ego if you will, for this new role he was taking on. Most vigilantes and crime fighters wore masks, but Clark didn't want to go that route. It would probably scare the shit out of the very people he was trying to help. If he was going to do this, he wanted people to see him as someone helping or maybe as a symbol of hope. He glanced down at the symbol on his tee shirt and the same symbol on the red cloth. Maybe people will come to see it as a symbol of hope. It would be a great tribute to his biological parents that the symbol for their house lived on.

He thought about perhaps changing his hairstyle or wearing a fake nose or glasses but that wasn't going to work if he had to fight people. Besides he didn't want to look like an ass traipsing around Gotham in Groucho glasses. He wasn't going to be a symbol of anything if people laughed every time they saw him. No, he'd skip that part for now and just try and get his feet under him in this new role.

With some tentative plans worked out, he turned to the harder matter he had to deal with, his date with Dinah. In the moment he'd been so excited she'd returned his call and agreed to see him again, he had really given much thought as to what they would do. He'd been on dates before, but never with anyone like her. First of all she was an "older" woman. It was only two years, but she seemed to have packed a lot into those two extra years. Compared to her, Clark probably seemed like a hick, he thought. She did agree to go out with me, so I have that going, he reminded himself.

Two things would have to be factored into the date, he realized. One, while getting his first paycheck had helped; he wasn't exactly rolling in the cash. Yes he'd mention going Dutch, but that was like whipping out coupons on a first date. A sure sign you're not going to get a second date. The meant most of the ritzy, swank places in Gotham were out.

The second and probably more important factor was Dinah was a fugitive. Clark didn't know all the details, but she was reportedly mixed up in the murder of Kurt Lance, who it seemed was her husband. So she was a widow on top of everything else. Having met her, talked to her and seen her in actions, Clark was having a hard time believing she could be a murderer. It did complicate going on a date with her though. It meant he had to figure out someplace she would feel comfortable and safe enough to relax. The more he thought about it; Clark wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

Gotham – next day

Ev Crawford, or Starling as she was going by now, was Dinah's friend. She was also connected with several other people, some who weren't friends with Dinah. She hadn't shared this fact with Dinah. It was part of the nature of the business both of them were in that you made some strange alliances. Currently those alliances weren't interfering with Ev helping Dinah. That made things simple.

They had been tracking a terrorist group trying to smuggle a dirty bomb of some sort into Gotham. Rumors had it that the bomb was a meta-gene bomb and that if it were set off it would play havoc with the DNA of the population. Apparently they wanted to create more metas, no matter what the cost. Ev and Dinah were determined that wasn't going to happen. So far nothing had come of the rumors, but they were staying on top of it. Since Dinah had a date, Ev volunteered for the stakeout.

Grabbing a couple of slices of pizza, she moved into position to keep her vigil. The first hour went by and nothing happened. She was just finishing off the last slice when an unmarked van pulled up in front of the cheap hotel the suspected terrorists were staying at. A moment passed and then five guys, all in black came out and got in. One of them was carrying a metal suitcase. Warning bells went off in Ev's head and she was out the door and down to her car in the next minute.

* * *

Gotham

Clark smiled when he saw Dinah sitting at the coffee shop. She was dressed all in black; her hair pulled back, a baseball cap on, sunglasses and heavy leather coat. He knew she was incognito, but for someone as beautiful as her it was hard to hide that fact. She stood out in any crowd whether she wanted to or not.

It was his day off and he'd spent most of the night trying to figure out where to take her. The safe thing would be somewhere private, but other than his apartment he didn't really know that many private places in Gotham. Somehow he knew suggesting they go to his apartment wasn't going to fly for a first date.

What he'd come up with was a baseball game. Gotham's professional team was lousy this year so that meant the seventy thousand-seat stadium would only have about twenty thousand in it. He'd bought some outfield seats near the vendors. The beauty of baseball over other sports is that it isn't on a clock. Even if you don't particularly like baseball, you're still outside in the sunshine. You can have a beer, a sandwich and just relax and enjoy it. The game was always there in the background, but unlike timed sports, you didn't have to pay attention all the time. Plus, unlike football, it was played in the summer, nice warm weather and outdoors. It was like being in an enclosed park with food and drink.

"Hi." He said, standing in front of her table.

"Hi,' she replied.

He pulled out a new cap and handled it to her.

"What's this?" She asked.

"Something to help you blend in a little more,' he explained.

"Baseball? You want to go to a baseball game?" Dinah asked. "That's a lot of people, Clark, I don't know."

"The team sucks this year so it should be pretty empty, plus I got us cheap tickets so no one will be near us for probably forty rows."

"How cheap are these tickets? We're going to be inside, aren't we?"

"Yeah, left field."

"I still don't know,' Dinah offered, still looking at the new cap.

'Well, why don't we try it, if you don't feel comfortable we can leave,' Clark replied."

"All right, I guess."

Her lack of enthusiasm didn't seem like a good sign for the beginning of their date to Clark, but he really didn't have any other ideas.

"Just give it a chance, please?"

"Well, okay.' Dinah finally said. In her mind she was thinking this wasn't going to work. She wasn't exactly a sports fan to begin with. Now this whole thing, going on a date seemed stupid and premature. She wasn't ready for this, but now she was stuck. She just decided she would go for a little while and then exit, letting him down easy.

* * *

Gotham Baseball Stadium – Later

It was a beautiful day. One of those summer days when the temperature was just right and there was a soft breeze blowing. As far as the game went they really hadn't watched much of it. When a cheer went up they would see what it was about, but for the most part they sat, talked and ate. The stadium had a picnic area with wooden benches. Unlike what most people think of when they imagine baseball stadium food, Gotham boosted some of the best around. They had taken their cue from other stadiums around the country. You could get the usual hot dogs, popcorn, peanuts and beer, but that was just the start of it.

Also available were piles of sweet, fresh Dungeness crab between two slices of garlic butter-brushed grilled sourdough, chicken tamales, jicama salad with grapefruit, avocado and pumpkin seeds and an assortment of tacos, like carne asada and crisped carnitas, Ahi tuna and portobello mushroom sandwiches, burgers, kielbasa, warm clam chowder served in a bread bowl, sweet-potato fries dusted with curry, just to name a few of the selections. It was like having twenty of the top restaurants within fifty feet of you.

If that wasn't enough, the ballpark boasted its own microbrewery along with region and national brands for every palate. If beer wasn't your favorite, several places also had cocktails and still others offered some of the best coffee from all over the country. Prices weren't too outrageous, no more than if you went to an upscale restaurant in the better part of town, so the fact that there was also a baseball game going on just seemed like an added bonus.

Dinah's reservations about this date slowly disappeared. It was a beautiful day. She wasn't really interested in the game, but then that didn't seem to matter. It was awkward at first, but by the second inning they were talking. She slipped off her jacket as she dug into the basket of fries. They didn't talk about anything important, just the usual getting to know you sort of things. He didn't push her for details she wasn't willing to give.

By the fifth inning, Dinah felt very relaxed and was enjoying herself. The food and the company, never mind the perfect day seemed to ease so many of her concerns and worries. None of the other patrons seemed to be paying them much attention, too into the game or the food or both. She found herself laughing for the first time in a long time. Clark was sweet and perhaps a bit innocent, but she found that charming. If this is what it's like dating a normal guy I could get it like it, Dinah thought to herself.

For Clark's part he had been very nervous when they arrived. He was almost positive he'd blown his chance with her. She didn't like sports, that was pretty obvious, but she was giving it a chance. Not sure what else to do, he fell back on what he would do on any other date. He talked to her and tried to get to know a little more about her. She was vague about some things, but he didn't push. He offered a little more about himself, trying to be open and honest with Dinah. It seemed to work. The food seemed to help immeasurably. She seemed to relax and gave a few more details about who she was.

Maybe he hadn't screwed this up as bad as he thought, Clark hoped.

The seventh inning stretch came faster than either imagined it would. They had finished most of the food they ordered and were sitting back having some coffee enjoying the sunshine. Dinah suddenly seemed on alert. Clark turned his head to see what was a matter. A young woman, dark hair, one arm covered in tattoos was moving rather fast towards them.

"Ev?" Dinah said. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you know who here,' Ev replied. She glanced at Clark and smile. "Hi, I'm Ev."

"Nice to meet you, Ev, I'm Clark,' he replied.

"Yes you are,' Ev said with a little bigger smile.

"Ev!" Dinah grumbled. "Focus, please, what do you mean they're here?"

"They left their hotel and came here,' Ev explained. "They had a suitcase with them, so it doesn't look good."

"They're going to set it off in the stadium,' Dinah gasped. "We know they wanted to make a big impact and this place would be perfect for that."

Clark had been listening to all of this, but not following it.

"Whose here?" He asked.

"Terrorists,' Ev replied.

"EV!" Dinah exclaimed. "He's a civilian, remember? Sorry, Clark, but I'm going to have to cut the date short."

Dinah stood and was just about to go, when Clark stood up too.

"I understand, but I'd like to help if I can,' he offered.

"That's sweet, Clark, but these people are very dangerous." Dinah replied. "The best thing for you to do is leave and call the cops."

"I want to help Dinah,' Clark insisted. "I can so I should, your words."

"Oh, that was nice,' Ev chimed in. "I see what you did there, turning her words back on her. Smooth."

Dinah gave Ev a nasty look.

"It's not safe, Clark."

"I want to help, let me,' he replied. He hadn't moved and Dinah realized he wasn't going to.

"Oh, all right, but stay out of the way if you can.' Dinah finally broke down and said. "Do what I tell you to do and hopefully you won't get hurt."

"Stay close to me, I'll protect you,' Ev offered with a smile, moving up next to Clark.

"EV!"


	6. Chapter 6

Not smooth and smooth

Gotham Stadium

As they rushed towards the lower levels, Dinah took the lead followed by Ev and then Clark. He wanted to help and thought he had an idea of what that would entail, but when two guns suddenly appeared in Ev's hands he had to rethink that position. Like most people, Clark had grown up watching television, movies and playing video games. Countless hours of action dramas, including police, military, spy and most people's favorite, the lone wolf actions dramas, role-playing first person shooters, had made violence seem predictable and somewhat orderly. It gives the viewers the illusion in the same situation, no matter how outlandish; they would know what to do and how to handle it.

Who hasn't imagined themselves as the plucky Mom stepping up to save their kids or the regular Joe caught in the middle of a firefight that suddenly picks up a fallen combatant's weapon and turns the tide? Who hasn't imagined themselves as the shining knights riding to the rescue? Who hasn't thought of himself or herself as the hero?

It's called fantasy for a reason.

In real life, all those marathon hours of playing Call to Duty are worthless. The villain doesn't stop and tell you his or her plans. You can't out run a spray from a machine gun. Bullets kill you, there's no reset button.

Real life isn't scripted. In a drive-by shooting, the plucky mom can only huddle against the floor, hoping to shield her children at best. Novices don't get the chance to prove their metal as they're usually blown up or killed before the thought even enters their mind. A soldier that's been in a real firefight knows it's all chaos and confusion. Training only does so much; randomness and chance strip away the bravado. Fear is the common element in all the real life scenarios the movies, video games and movies pretend to show.

Clark realized although he was faster and stronger than just about anyone, he was a novice. He continued moving forward, but had no idea what they were going to do once they found the terrorists. It was obvious Dinah and Ev knew what they were doing. He suddenly wondered if his inexperience would prove more of a liability then a help. Maybe just because he could, didn't always mean he should.

Clark experienced fear as a real and tangible thing, not just for himself but also for Dinah and Ev. He knew nothing of the people they were rushing to confront, not even how many of them there were. Terrorists, the word brought up thoughts of trained, committed young people ready to die for a cause. It didn't matter whether their cause was right or wrong, they believed in it so much they were willing to die for it.

In his now frantic mind, so many thoughts seemed to be ricocheting around at random. Maybe it was the adrenaline kicking in, but with each step they seemed to increase in speed and intensity. What are you willing to die for Clark, his mind ask him? Strangers? You don't know any of these people in the stadium. You just met Ev and you like Dinah, but are you willing to die for them?

As his speed and strength had increased, his senses had been escalating as well. He'd managed to keep control over the incremental changes, but now down here his control slipped. Sounds and sights bombarded him from everywhere. He was sure they were going haywire, as at one point when he was looking at Dinah and Ev in front of him they appeared as if in X-rays. Clark could hear their breathing, his own even worse, as well as the crowd noise above bouncing off the walls and flooding his senses. The din was overwhelming and just added to his rising anxiety.

His step faltered and Clark had to catch himself before he fell. He knew the urge to stop was there, but he did his best to push passed it. In his rising panic, he tried to push away all the questions and narrow his focus, but he could feel it spreading through his body. You're not a hero screamed in his mind, yet he kept moving forward, staying with Ev and Dinah. Sweat began to pour off him, not from the heat, but the pressure. The constant walla of sound seemed even more concentrated here in these small, dark claustrophobic tunnels. He was already fighting a struggle within and he had to win that one before he could help anyone else.

They were in the lower levels of the stadium, the area where most patrons never saw. The lights were dim, casting shadows as they moved. Tunnels branched off in every direction. Dinah silently signaled for them to slow down. They moved closer to the wall. She finally stopped at a junction of several tunnels. None of them made a sound, as Dinah and Ev tried to pick up anything as to which tunnel the terrorists had taken.

They were in twilight, half shadows of what felt like a modern day catacomb. The sound of the crowd cheering seemed so far away as it echoed down from above. Clark wiped the sweat off his face, trying to pull himself together. He saw the look passing between Ev and Dinah. They weren't sure which way to go so they had to remain still until they had some indication for their next move. They needed help.

Clark knew he could help, if only he could get his fear and panic under control. He tried to calm his breathing and heart rate, reminding himself this wasn't who the Kents or his biological parents had raised or wanted him to be. That didn't help. What other people's expectations of him were didn't matter now. What he knew he had to focus on was what he wanted. If he was going to do this, he couldn't do it for someone else, it had to be for him. It had to be about what sort of man he wanted to be, not just now but in the future.

Everyone faces a moment when they are confronted with the transition from childhood to adulthood. Rituals and ceremonies go back a millennium in every culture around the globe because this moment was understood as important and pivotal in everyone's life. The modern world has some echoes of these rituals, but more and more the moment is pushed back extending childhood further into young adulthood. This is accepted, but only delays that eventual transition. Each of us one day faces the moment when we must become an adult man or woman. We can't remain children all our lives.

Today was Clark's turn to step into the unknown. He had three choices. One was to retreat, get as far away from this place as he could. Go back to what he knew and try to forget about all of this.

The second option was do nothing, remain here against the wall and allow the professionals, Ev and Dinah to handle it. Dinah had already tried to stop him from doing this, and now she gave him the out again.

"Clark?" Dinah whispered. She could see his breathing was rapid and he was sweating. She'd been in enough situations like this to know the signs of panic. He seemed to be controlling it, but she worried if they went any further he wouldn't be able to. He shouldn't be here anyway, she thought, he's a civilian. It just brought back everything she'd been worried about when she accepted this date. She liked Clark and after spending most of the day with him liked him even more. Dinah had hoped for maybe just one day she could put her world aside and just spend it like a normal 24-year-old woman would.

She now knew she'd been kidding herself. She'd let her attraction to Clark fool her into thinking this wouldn't be a mistake. Now he was stuck in her world and nice normal guys like him get killed in her world. Even guys with training and experience die in her world, as her experience had shown her only too well.

"Clark, why don't you just say here?" Dinah offered in a hush tone. "Ev and I can handle this. Why don't you head back and see if you can find a security guard or something to give them the heads up?"

"Yeah, you don't look so good, Clark,' Eve added in a whispered. "You're kind of pitting out that shirt. Hang back, we'll handle it."

So there it was, they were offering him that second option, a way out. He didn't hear any judgment in their voices; they probably knew he was in over his head. Just hang back, don't do anything that was the safest way, repeated in his mind.

There was a third option, though. Clark could get control over his panic and face his fears. He wouldn't be doing it for Ev and Dinah or the Kents or Jor-El and Lara or the world or anyone or anything else. No, he would do it for himself. He would confront his fear and overcome it the only honest and real way everyone else did, by doing it for himself.

"No." He managed to say. He got his heart rate and breathing under a semblance of control. The panic and fear were still there, but he wasn't going to let them stop him. If he did today, there was a real possibility they would always stop him. He could do this, he told himself. Pulling his control over his senses back to a manageable level, Clark took a deep breath and tried concentrating on the sounds immediately around him.

First it was only his, Ev and Dinah's breathing and then their heartbeats. Slowly he let his sense of hearing extend. He'd never tried anything like this before so it was tremendously difficult, but he didn't stop. As his range increased the underground tunnels became alive with sounds. He had to sift through so many different ones until he heard them, the terrorists. He opened his eyes and looked in the direction those sounds were coming from. His eyesight wasn't as advanced as his hearing yet, but when he concentrated he would almost swear he saw them in the distance.

"There are five of them down that tunnel." He said, pointing to the third tunnel on the right. Dinah and Ev turned and looked where he was pointing. They both had surprised and confused looks on their faces.

"How could you possibly know that?" Dinah asked.

Clark let out a slow, deep breath before answering.

"I can hear them."

Ev and Dinah looked at each other, wondering what was going on. They couldn't hear anything.

"You just have to trust me on this, Dinah,' Clark said. "They're down there, I promise."

Dinah was confused. She had a million questions, but time wasn't on their side. She glanced at Eve, but saw she had no clue either. Dinah turned back and looked into Clark's eyes trying to understand what was going on. She saw confidence and perhaps a little fear, but she also saw he believed what he was saying.

'Trust me, Dinah."

She wished he'd said anything but that. In her short, eventful life Dinah had learned the hard way about trusting people. Even those closest to you weren't above manipulating your trust if it helped them achieve their own personal goals. Trusting made her vulnerable and in her world too many people were only too willing to take advantage of it. Out of defense and survival she'd learned the painful lesson to not trust anyone too much. Now here was Clark asking her to trust him, to just take his word that he was being honest with her and not playing games like everyone else usually did. He was asking her to take a leap of faith, in him.

Dinah continued looking into his eyes, struggling with the decision.

"If you're playing games with me, Clark, …" She started to warn him.

"I'm not,' he said, cutting her off. He just held her gaze, not flinching away from it. Dinah looked at Ev again, but she was no help, confused and surprised as Dinah was. It was Dinah's decision, no one else's. Glancing into his eyes again, she made it grudgingly.

"You better be right, Clark,' she grumbled and then signaled for them to head down the tunnel he indicated.

The light slowly disappeared the further they went. Clark found his vision still worked better than most and he could see Dinah and Ev in front of him. Ev passed something to Dinah. Where does she hide all that stuff in that outfit, Clark couldn't help wondering? He saw Dinah stop and turned towards him.

"When I give the sign, cover your eyes,' she whispered.

She didn't wait for his reply, as now they could all hear faint noises in the distance. Dinah smiled to herself, surprised how happy she was that Clark had been right. She'd trusted him and he'd rewarded that trust.

As happy as she was about that, it also increased her worry about his safety. He's a civilian, she kept telling herself, a nice normal guy in over his head. She shouldn't have let him come down here. How he heard them from way back there was still a mystery to her, but more pressing matters were at hand.

They moved silently along the tunnel and Clark could see there was an opening up ahead. The sound, voices and movements were much clearer to him now. It seemed the tunnel opened up onto some sort of centralized junction. Judging by the noise above, they were right under the stands behind home plate. That was where the largest concentrations of patrons were and would do the most damage.

"NOW! Dinah shouted and then tossed a flash grenade. It produced a blinding flash of light and loud noise without causing permanent injury. The tunnels and the junction were bathed in it. It blinded the terrorists, but Clark too. He hadn't realized that was what she was going to do and the light overwhelmed his sense. He hugged the wall, trying to clear his vision, but could already hear the sounds of gunfire and fighting.

The effects of the flash only last five seconds usually, but that was enough time for Ev and Dinah to launch into an attack. Two of the terrorists were down before the effects wore off and the others were scrambling to counter. They fired wildly, bullets bouncing off everything. Dinah took down another one with a leaping kick to the jaw, before tumbling across the room to avoid more gunfire.

The last two terrorists had moved together and were working as a team. While the one sprayed the junction with bullets the other grabbed the triggering device for the bomb. Ev and Dinah were momentarily pinned down and had to think fast about their options.

Than the gunfire stopped.

The junction was dark again until a flare was lit. They saw Clark standing at the entrance holding the flare in one hand and the trigger device in the other. The two terrorists were unconscious on the ground. Slowly Ev and Dinah rose, more than a little surprised by this latest turn of events. Before they could say anything, Clark held out the trigger device.

"Could one of you take this, please?" He asked. He was still nervous, not familiar with how the device worked, so he wanted the pros to take it off his hands as quickly as possible. Both Dinah and Ev moved into action. They took the device and eliminated its connection to the bomb. Next they moved over and took the explosives and the biological component from the main device. In the distance they could hear the sound of police and others coming.

"How did you do that?" Dinah finally asked Clark.

"Um, well, they weren't looking where they were going,' He offered. "They had their eyes on you, so I saw an opening. I took it."

He gave a sheepish grin, but Dinah wasn't buying it. Back down the tunnel he looked like he was moments from a full-blown panic attack and now he takes out two terrorists single-handedly?

"I think you've got some explaining to do, Clark,' she said.

"I could, so I did,' he replied.

"No, that's not good enough this time."

The sound of the authorities was getting closer. It was Ev that pointed this out.

"Mission accomplished, Dinah. Nice work, Clark,' she said. "Now how about we get out of here before the cops show up? Please? You're a fugitive, remember, honey? They don't like me too much either. Let's go!"

Dinah wanted to protest, but some times you can't argue with simple logic. Giving a frustrated sigh, she nodded and the three of them chose another tunnel and took off. Clark dropped the flare next to the defused bomb.

* * *

Outside the stadium

The game was over and the home team had won. The stadium spectators were pouring out, happy and excited. From the other direction police and SWAT were converging on the scene. The first responders had obviously called in what they found. In the confusion, Dinah, Ev and Clark made their exit. They were across the parking lot on top of the stadium garage and stood at the edge watching what was happening.

"Wow pretty good date, Clark,' Ev joked. "I wasn't even invited and I had fun. You know how to show a girl a good time, don't you?"

"It didn't go quite like I planned," he offered, a little embarrassed.

Dinah turned to him.

"How did you know which tunnel they were in?"

"I told you, I heard them,' he replied.

"I'm going to need more details,' she stated.

"It's going to have to wait,' Ev interrupted. "We're safe here but I don't think we should stay too long. He can explain on the next date, right Clark?"

He smiled at this. His smile got a little bigger when he saw the look Dinah gave Ev.

"I'd like that,' he quietly said.

"I don't know,' Dinah replied. She wasn't sure what to think about him now.

"Sure you are,' Ev offered. "She'll call you, Clark, I'll make sure of it, but we have to go now!"

"Please call me, Dinah, if you want to,' he said.

"All-All right,' she hesitantly replied.

"So it's settled,' Ev happily said. "Now aren't you going to kiss her so we can get going?"

"EV!" Dinah shouted.

Clark figured why not. He stepped over and gently pulled Dinah into his arms. He hesitated, giving her a chance to pull away before kissing her. Dinah responded. The kiss lingered for a few moments. Above the stadium fireworks began to celebrate the home team's victory.

"All right, break it up you two, we have to go!" Ev shouted.

They stepped away from each other. Both were smiling.

"I'll wait for your call." He said.

"I'll call,' she replied.

The moment was over and it was time for Ev and Dinah to leave. They jumped in her car and vanished in the next moment. Clark could hear them tearing down one of the side streets away from the stadium. He looked back at the stadium, the fireworks show was in full progress.

* * *

Clark's apartment – Later

It had been a long, eventful day and frankly Clark was tired and exhausted. The emotional roller coaster he'd been on had taxed him more than the physical. The adrenaline rush had finally worn off and he was only thinking about bed. There was a knock at his door. He got up and went over to open it. When he did, he was confronted by the most seductive, sensual smile he'd ever seen in his life. He had only caught a glimpse of her the other night, but there was no mistaking who she was, Selina Kyle.

"I was hoping I could borrow some sugar?" she said, holding up a teacup. "We haven't been formally introduced, I'm Selina from upstairs."

"Clark." He managed to say.

"Hi, Clark."

"Hi."

Frankly he wasn't sure what to do. They definitely didn't have women like this back in Smallville or any other place he'd ever been. Her sensual smile grew just a faction as they stood there.

"So, sugar, yes or no, Clark?" She asked with a playful tone.

"Oh, right, yeah, sure,' he quickly said, once again able to move. He quickly turned and went to the little kitchenette in his apartment and opened one of the cupboards. As he took down the box of sugar he glanced back towards Selina. She stood in the doorway with the light from the hallways silhouetting her. He'd been so flustered at the door, he hadn't noticed she was wearing probably the shortest and sheerest dress he'd ever seen. Backlit like she was, the dress was transparent. Every spectacular curve of her body was displayed. When she moved into his apartment and closed the door, Clark actually took a step back reflexively.

"So since you're new in town, why don't we get to know each other, Clark?"

"Great."

He wasn't sure, but he thought his voice cracked just a little bit. When he saw her smile grow he knew it had.


	7. Chapter 7

Eyes Wide ...

Gotham - Clark's Apartment

Selina Kyle had the ability of making men unsure of themselves. All women do to some extent, but Selina had it down to an art. Whether they were rich, poor, powerful or just ordinary, it didn't matter. Something about her just unsettled men. She liked it that way. Most of those that had met her would describe her as morally ambiguous, and especially the men associated her with a sense of mystification and unease. Some would use an old fashioned way of putting it by saying she used her 'feminine wiles' such as beauty, charm, and sexual allure to get what she wanted. This was only partly true.

Beauty only gets you so far if its not backed up by brains. She had grown up on the meanest streets in the worst part of Gotham. Chronologically she was the same age as Clark, yet like with Dinah, her 22 years pack more into them then his 22 years had. Where she was from, you grow up fast or you might not grow up at all. Selina learned early on all women need to known how to protect themselves, especially the pretty ones. If they didn't, it meant being forced to rely on others. Nothing came free in Gotham and protection had its price. Even as a young girl, Selina knew she didn't want to pay it. She used what she had to carve a place out in this world, on her own terms.

The newest tenant in her building had certainly caught her attention when he helped Melinda. That he'd called her ma'am amused her. That he was young, tall and rather good-looking interested her. A few discrete questions to that overly sweaty weasel Jerry and Selina knew a little more about Clark Kent. That he was a farm boy newly arrived in the big city made her smile. That he was in Gotham to start his career as a reporter didn't. Selina wasn't particularly a fan of reporters, but they had their uses.

Like the felines Selina was so fond of, she could be a bit territorial. The scientific name for this among humans is Territoriality. It is associated with nonverbal communication that refers to how people use space to communicate ownership or lay claim to a certain area. According to the experts, men tend to go into women's spaces more than women enter men's spaces and typically have a stronger sense of ownership and are more likely to challenge others' boundaries.

That was not the case for Selina. Perhaps that was part of the reason she made people uncomfortable, especially men. She had no problem challenging their boundaries and even rattling their cages now and again. That was the primary reason she was here, in Clark's apartment. She wanted to see what the neophyte to the big city was made of and perhaps have a little fun with him.

Selina smiled at Clark and then moved over and sat down on the left side of the couch.

"Why don't you sit down, Clark and we can get to know each other?' She said, patting the place next to her. She crossed her legs, her already dangerously short dress slipping just a bit higher.

"Not much to tell really," Clark replied after clearing his suddenly dry throat. He carried the box of sugar into what passed as the living room and set it on the table in front of Selina. He glanced at her hand, as she gave the seat next to her another playful pat and then took one of the chairs opposite her. He noticed her smile got a little fuller.

Clark wasn't sure what to make of the young woman sitting across from him. Short dark hair framed her features. The word that came to mind to describe those features was exotic. Watching the way she moved when she entered his apartment reminded Clark of a gymnast. The dress and what it barely concealed made him think of a gymnast that had filled out a little too well for the uneven bars. That thought and her steady, sensual gaze made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He had a feeling that was her intention.

He lifted the box of sugar and held it over the teacup she's brought with her. He was a little surprised that his hand was still steady.

"Don't want to forget your sugar,' he said. "Just say when."

He began to slowly pour the sugar into the cup. Selina sat forward closing the distance between them, watching him but not saying a word. Clark found himself looking from the slowly filling teacup to her and then back to the teacup. He continued to pour the sugar, but she remained silent. The apartment suddenly felt a little oppressively warm, as the only sound was the steam of sugar pouring from the box. The sugar was almost to the rim of the teacup, yet she still hadn't said anything. When it was just about to overflow, Clark stopped and set the box down on the table.

"I didn't say when, Clark."

"Your cup was about to overflow,' he replied. "I didn't want the sugar to go to waste."

"Who said it would go to waste? I'm sure if we really thought about it we could come up with some other interesting uses for it,' Selina offered. As if to demonstrate, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them even more and slowly dipped her finger into the teacup, then brought it up to her mouth. Just the end of her finger slipped between her full lips for a moment and he thought he saw the tip of her tongue flick against it as she slipped it back out. "Don't you agree, Clark?"

Clark thought he felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his face as he watched all this. She definitely seemed to be enjoying making him uncomfortable, he thought. He realized now that making him uncomfortable was the point of all of this. Perhaps if he hadn't already been on a date with another gorgeous woman tonight, he might have reacted differently. He might have imagined he had a shot with Selina. The fact that this stunning young woman he'd never really met before shows up at his door dressed like that, was like something about of a Penthouse Forum letter. It was a little too good to be true.

Clark might only be from a small town in the Midwest, but he knew when someone was playing with him. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them just as she had a moment earlier. He held her gaze with his.

"So is this the part where we get to know each other?"

"What do you think?" She asked.

"I think you're setting me up for a long cold shower,' he replied.

Selina laughed. It was a genuine laugh and she seemed younger in the moment.

"You think so, huh? I might surprise you,' she teased.

"Of that I have no doubt."

That he hadn't gone to pieces like most young men she met pleased Selina. That he seemed to know she was trying to manipulate him intrigued her.

"Where did you say you're from, Clark?"

"I didn't,' he replied, the offered. "Smallville."

"Seriously? Is that even in the United States?"

"Kansas."

"So just barely,' she said with a teasing smile.

"Well, it's not Gotham, but we all have to be from somewhere, don't we?"

Thinking of where she'd grown up, Selina sat back as the smile slipped a bit.

"Yes, I suppose we do." She looked at him again. He felt like she was evaluating him or reevaluating him. Clark wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"So why come to Gotham?" She asked.

"A job,' he replied.

"As a reporter,' she added.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"It doesn't take much to get Jerry to spill his guts,' she informed him.

Clark let his eyes slowly take her in from her slender ankles to her alluring eyes.

"Yeah, I can see how that would work." He replied.

"So have you come to the big city to write all about how corrupt it is?' She mockingly asked. "Are you one of those reporters, Clark? The kind that wants to show how evil and wicked Gotham is and try and exposed it?"

"I've only been here two weeks,' he admitted. "So far my job has been little more than a glorified gopher at the magazine. I think the evil and wicked Gotham is safe for now."

"You should keep it that way, you'll live longer."

"I don't know," he replied. "If you see corruption and evil aren't you obligated to do something about it?"

Selina gave a small, dry laugh.

"The Gotham Gazette has had a lot of reporters that thought that way over the years, Clark. Some of them even have plaques in the building's lobby on what they call the wall of heroes. You know why they call it that, Clark?"

"No."

"Cause they're all dead,' Selina explained. "That's what happens to heroes in this town. Two weeks, two years, two decades, it doesn't matter, Clark, if you're not from Gotham you'll never understand it. You seem like a decent guy, so take my advice, get out now. Go back to Tinytown and marry your high school sweetheart. Have a family and a life. Forget about Gotham, country mouse, they play a little too rough for your kind."

"It's Smallville." He corrected her. "Kansas."

"Does it make a difference?" She asked.

"It does to me."

"It doesn't in Gotham,' Selina replied.

Clark had been running up against this attitude almost from the moment he got off the bus. He was from the part of the country the people on the coasts referred to as FlyoverLand. He'd heard it in everyone's voice since he'd arrived, that condensation and judgment. It said without having to say it that you were a hick, a rube or a hillbilly and you couldn't possible understand what things were like in the sophisticated modern world of the big city on the coast, like Gotham.

He knew he had some catching up to do; anyone would in a new place. He was just tired of people telling him it was hopeless and he should go back home. He was young and had a bit of pride, so when Selina openly challenged him, he fired back.

"You're probably right, Miss Kyle, I'll never know Gotham as well as you do,' he said. "I've only been here two weeks. I don't even know half the names of the streets around here, but I don't believe the people are that different. Bullies, thugs and scared people aren't something that's exclusive to Gotham. Rich and poor people aren't either. I'm not rich and I've had to work to get where I am. That probably makes me like a lot of people around here, just trying to make a living and pay my bills."

Clark paused for a moment. Selina didn't interrupt him, just sat listening.

"I might not be from here, but I have eyes and ears,' he said, continuing. "I don't think you have to be from Gotham to see what's going on. I'm living in an apartment right in the middle of it. The people that live in those big mansions on the other side of town, they've lived in Gotham all their lives, but whole parts of this city are just images on the news to them. I may not understand yet, but my eyes and ears are open. That's more than a lot of people that have lived here can say."

Selina sat and looked at him for a moment. With a sigh she slowly stood up. Clark joined her.

"You're not a coward, Clark, I saw that on the stairs when you helped Melinda.' Selina finally said. "A lot of fools aren't cowards, though. You say your eyes and ears are open, but you have no idea what you're already involved in, do you? Those two guys putting the squeeze on Melinda, they work for Carmine Falcone. I can see you've never heard of him, have you? It's not knowing who he is and people like him that will get you killed. Those rich people across town you spoke of? The might not know what's going on down here, but they know who Carmine Falcone is. They know the hundreds of other crazy, sick, twisted bastards to avoid that you have no clue about. They might be cowards hiding in their mansions, but they're not fools."

Selina picked up the teacup and moved towards the door. As she opened it, she turned and looked at Clark one last time.

"Fools die in Gotham, Clark, don't be one of them,' she said. "Thanks for the sugar."

Without another word, she closed the door and was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Reverse, Forward

Warehouse District

The nightmares still came. Each time she had to watch the world she thought she knew get thrown into chaos. Dinah sat on her bed, her back against the brick wall looking out into the darkness. Memories came flooding back. The pitch had been an elite team to protect the country's interested. Dinah had been a good soldier and bought into all of it, hook, line and sinker; going so far as being one of the main recruiters for Team 7. Slade Wilson, Alex Fairchild, Amanda Waller, Steve Trevor, James Bronson, Cole Cash, Dinah Drake, her maiden name and Kurt Lance, they had all worked for Lynch on his special projects team. She hadn't realized till it was too late, they were the primary special project.

Most of them had the meta-gene within them, dormant but still there. While they thought they were fighting the enemies of their country and world, their superiors were more interested in experimenting on them. They wanted the power to 'turn on' those latent meta-genes so they could have their own 'super' squad. The ones that didn't make it were simply collateral damage, a necessary risk worth taking.

Dinah was one of their 'success' stories, although she hardly thought of it that way. A ticking time bomb had been turned on inside of her. She hadn't told Ev or anyone else, but Dinah could feel it always in the background. Her Canary Cry, as some called it, was what had been turned on. She didn't know how to shut it off or even control it. Kurt, her husband and partner, had been part of it, always pushing her to use it, trying to amplify it, to reach her potential. Dinah had released it at full force once and it ended up burying Kurt and others under a mountain of wreckage.

Collateral damage for a successful experiment they would call it. For Dinah it was a price too high and too personal. She still couldn't understand why Kurt had pushed so hard when he knew she couldn't control it. She'd told him so many times how it frightened her, yet at the critical moment he'd not only pushed her, but helped amplify her ability out of control power. Why had he done it? Why didn't he believe her, Dinah kept asking. He had disappeared under that avalanche she caused so he was going to provide any answers.

It wasn't until later, Dinah began to suspect he had to know and must have believed her, that's why he pushed so hard. That must have been his role in Lynch's little experiment. He was the one tasked with turning on her meta-gene and he did his job oh so well. Dinah loved and trusted him and thought he felt the same. All the time they were together, even during their marriage he must have had alternative motives and goals. Looking back she couldn't help wondering if everything they'd shared, their life together hadn't all been part of a lie. As much as she didn't want to believe it he must have been like all the rest in the shadowy world of black ops, covert special operations. All the secret agendas, double-crosses, and shifting loyalties of a world she once thought she understood, she now realized she never had.

She wasn't like the rest of the team. Dinah had been raised to believe in things like honor, loyalty, trust and truth. She believed there had to be good guys and bad guys, not just ever shifting shades of gray. It wasn't good enough that the people you work for were just slightly better than the people you were fighting against. Loyalty wasn't something you sold to the highest bidder. You didn't use people that loved and trusted you. They weren't just collateral damage to test a theory.

That's what made the nightmares so bad. They weren't the stuff of fantasies and illusion, but pieces of reality, her reality spliced together and played on an endless loop. The horrors, mass murders of the innocent and ultimately the betrayals haunted her. Those in charge had written it all off as collateral damage, as long as the goal was achieved. It was when the realization that she was part of that collateral damage hit her, that Dinah couldn't do it any more. She walked away or rather ran away and become a fugitive. Kurt's death had just been a convenient cover, but what they really feared was what she knew and what she'd become.

The irony of returning home to Gotham wasn't lost on Dinah. She'd spent most of her young life trying to get as far away from it as she could. They say you can't go home again, but when your life has been shattered into too many pieces to count it seems like the best alternative. Perhaps she had come back as some sort of reset, to start over only this time do it the right way. She was tired of taking orders from those with hidden agendas and now the only person she would follow would be herself.

It all had come with a cost. Dinah had trust issues. Who could blame her, when it appeared the first man she'd ever loved had used and manipulated her love and trust. Not trusting people led to a rather lonely life. Dinah found she could survive like that, but her make up wasn't the lone wolf type. Surviving wasn't living; Dinah wanted and needed others in her life. That was at the heart of her dilemma. How do you trust and let people in when every experience you've had tells you not to?

Ev had been a good friend since her return, but Dinah didn't trust her completely. They both had secrets; it came with the business they had been in. Ev certainly hadn't told her everything, but then Dinah hadn't either. It was a first step though. Ev broke the solitude Dinah had been in since the accident. She wasn't even sure anymore if it was an accident, but having someone, a friend again helped.

The latest, tentative step Dinah had taken was more difficult. It wasn't as if Dinah hadn't received her share of male attention, she had. Even before she left the team, some of the others had made their interest known. Cole Cash came to mind. Grifter as he was calling himself nowadays hadn't even seemed to mind that Dinah was with Kurt at the time. She'd turned him down, but he wasn't the first or the last to be attracted to her.

Now there was Clark Kent. On the surface he seemed to be everything the others weren't. That she'd accepted and gone on a date with him still surprised Dinah. She hadn't been looking, but he popped up in front of her anyway. He was a civilian, which should have been a red flag. He seemed to be a nice normal guy from a small town, which should have been another one. He was the sort of guy she should have avoided. Guys like him got killed being with someone like her.

Dinah had accepted the date anyway. Oh, Ev had pushed, but Dinah already knew she would eventually make the call. It had gone better than she imagined it would. For a short while Dinah felt normal. All her issues and fears slipped into the background. She laughed for the first time in she didn't know how long. She found herself attracted to Clark, which hadn't happened with anyone since Kurt. If he'd asked her for a second date while they were still enjoying the food, Dinah would have probably said yes immediately.

Her real world intruded first. They had stopped the terrorists and that should have been satisfying, but it wasn't. Questions lingered, most of them centered on Clark. How had he heard the terrorists when neither Ev nor she could? How did a civilian take down two trained, armed terrorists by himself? He'd asked her to trust him, but how could she, Dinah wondered? A nice, normal guy didn't do things like he'd been able to do.

It all made Dinah weary. She couldn't help wondering if this was all some elaborate set up. Clark was the perfect bait to lure her in. She wouldn't put it passed any of the people she'd previously been affiliated with to come up with something that devious. Yet after spending the entire day with him, Dinah hadn't seen a crack in his cover, if that was what it was. He appeared to be just what he said he was, just some how more than what he should have been. Dinah been burned before. She didn't want to get burned again.

Her past was always with her. Experience told her Clark wasn't exactly what he appeared to be, but she wasn't sure what he was either. How could she move forward if she didn't have the answers to some rather basic questions? Did she even risk going down that road again? Sitting on her bed in the darkness, Dinah didn't have the answers. It seemed she hadn't run fast or far enough to escape her past, at least not yet.

* * *

The offices of Dérive

Clark had been called into meet the two owners of the online magazine, Aubrey Denton and Joshua Canfield, or Dent and Josh as they told everyone to call them. They were both dressed in the nonchalant uniform that so many of the new rich wore. The flip-flops, the baggy faded jeans and the ever-present ironic tee shirt. they was supposedly saying to the world they didn't care about material things and weren't followers like everyone else. The Parmigiani Fleurier Bugatti Type 370 and the Vacheron Constantin Skeleton Minute Repeater watches on their wrists said otherwise. The fact that each cost over a half a million dollars made the rest look like what it was, a pose, and a lie.

"You've been here what, two weeks, Clark?"

"Yes, sir,' he replied.

"Oh, come on, you know things are informal around here,' Denton said. "It's just Dent and Josh, Clark."

"Okay."

"So how do you like it here so far?' Josh asked.

"I do,' Clark replied. "I'm still trying to figure everything out and what exactly my job is, but the people and atmosphere are great."

"Good, good, we're trying to create a different kind of work environment so it's gratifying to hear people like it,' Josh said.

"As for your job.' Denton picked up the thread. "We're still sort of setting up shop so we haven't had a lot of time for these one on ones with everyone."

"I understand."

"That's why we asked you in here today. Do you know what Dérive means, Clark?"

"I think so,' he replied. "It's from the Situationist movement, it's an unplanned journey through a landscape, usually urban, on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the surrounding architecture and geography subconsciously direct the travelers, with the ultimate goal of encountering an entirely new and authentic experience."

Dent and Josh seemed surprised by this answer.

"When I was hired I looked it up on Wikipedia,' Clark explained. This got a small laugh from the two.

"Smart."

"Well, the magazine is sort of an offshoot of that idea, Clark,' Denton explained. "Instead of just one urban landscape, we're exploring all of them. Our new app is just about to come out, you should download it."

"I will,' Clark replied.

"Good, since you're an employee it's free,' Josh said.

"Today's media, Clark is consolidating not expanding like everything else. You get the same stories covered of what they think the public wants. Oh, sure, they put different spins on what they are showing, but it's the same crap. It's infotainment masquerading as news. Which got more coverage, the Arab Spring or Kanye and Kim's baby? Which one in the grand scheme of things is really important?"

Clark assumed they were rhetorical questions and remained quiet. He was proven right as Denton continued talking.

"The world has already changed, Clark. Information is everywhere and anytime. Newspapers and magazines, the 6 o'clock news or some nightly hour news roundup are things of the past and big media doesn't even know it. We already get 20 million hits a week on our Youtube channel and that's only getting bigger. We cover the global trends and movements, stuff that doesn't get on the regular old media. We've been basically a start up till this point, but now we're making a push for the next level. That's why we brought in Vicki Vale to be the face of that push. It's also where you come in Clark."

It all sounded exciting to Clark, but this was what he was most interested in. What was his job?

"We're not looking to hire the same hacks that worked in the old media and just plug them in to the new. They just recycle the same stories they were doing for the old media. No, we wanted new people with new ideas. Using the example of a Dérive, we want to show things in a new light and have people think and see them in a different way."

Josh took over the conversation now.

"You're a rookie in the business Clark, let's not kid ourselves. That's not meant as a slight, just a statement of fact. What caught our eye from your resume was the way you were able to explain complicated issues in simple terms. We even had some people do a bit of fact checking on your stories and they all came through perfect. That ability to take a large amount of facts and make them workable in a story is what we want. "

"Okay."

"We have people all over the globe sending us information around the clock. We need people that can synthesis that information into a coherent story. It means you won't be on camera, Clark, but your work will be. It's going to be long hours of checking facts, plowing through piles of information and breaking it all down so the average consumer can understand it. This is a business, Clark first, last and foremost. You won't get the glory, but if we like your work you'll be compensated generously. So how does that sound? Are you still interested in being part of the team?'

It took Clark all of two seconds to reply.

"Absolutely."

* * *

One week later

Dent and Josh hadn't been kidding about long hours. Clark was putting in 70 hours a week already, but it was interesting and satisfying work. His name wasn't on it like at a newspaper, but the variety of topics and stories he'd already been part of wasn't something he'd have had a chance at working at a newspaper either. He might be anonymous as far as his reporting went, but the stories were getting told.

It was Friday night and Clark was tired and hungry. His other fledging career as a crime fighter was still in the embryonic stages. He hadn't been able to get Selina Kyle's words out of his mind. He'd asked some of his coworkers about who Carmine Falcone was. They all, of course, knew and had a good laugh at his expense. If anything it reinforced the notion that he was an innocent in the big city.

One of the side benefits of Clark's new job was that he was basically in research. He spent his days culling through mountains of information, checking and re-checking the facts. This also gave him a chance to find out more about Gotham City. He learned all there was to know about Falcone, the Maroni crime family and all the other gangsters that plagued the city.

Selina had been right; he was clueless about what he was getting involved in. That was painful to admit, but the truth was right in front of his face. Clark also read what information there was on the Batman and the Rogue's gallery of villains he seemed to have. Information on him was sketchy at best, most of it a little hard to believe really. Clark knew he wasn't ready for anything like that. He was mainly trying to help out in the community he lived in. If he'd learned anything growing up on a farm it was that you couldn't pull all the weeds in one day, especially if you were new at it.

It seemed there were levels to this. He'd seen one on his date with Dinah. International terrorists and violent extremist groups seemed way above his pay grade at this point. So frankly did people like the Joker. No, if he was going to do this, Clark knew he had to start at the bottom with the basics. He had stopped the two guys hassling Melinda, but as Selina pointed out, they were just hired thugs. Stopping them did nothing if you didn't deal with the man that sent them. How to go about that, Clark had no clue.

So as he picked up his order from the neighborhood pizzeria, he headed back to his apartment to have dinner alone. Absently he checked his phone again, but already knew there weren't any calls from Dinah. Clark had been hoping she'd call. He thought their date had gone well up until the whole terrorist attack. Later he realized how little he really knew about her world. He'd handled himself pretty well that day, but he'd seen the doubt in her eyes. He thought they'd made a connection, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. He still held out hope she'd call, but the prospects weren't looking good.

Clark fished out his keys and opened the front door. As he stepped inside he saw Selina Kyle getting her mail. She was dressed differently than the last time he saw her, but still looked good. Bare feet, faded jeans and a black shirt never looked quite so attractive as they did on her.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi,' she replied. "Bye."

She turned and walked away back towards the stairs. Clark stood watching her. He had to admit she'd bruised his ego the last time they'd talked. He thought he'd stood up for himself, but the problem was she had been right. As difficult as it was, he didn't want to be one of those guys that couldn't admit when he was wrong.

"Miss Kyle, Selina, could I talk to you for a moment? Please?" He said.

She stopped with her right foot on the first step and looked back at him.

"What?"

"You were right the other night." He said as he moved a little closer to her. "I didn't know what I was getting into. Thanks for opening my eyes."

To say Selina was surprised would be an understatement. In her experience people rarely admitted mistakes or acknowledged them. She couldn't help smiling that the farm boy had shocked her again.

"Well, you're welcome Mr. Kent,' she replied. "Clark."

She started back up the stairs in a better mood than she'd been in coming down. It was Friday night and shockingly she had no plans. Her next heist wasn't until tomorrow. Some people she knew had invited her out, but she'd turned them down. She wanted to be sharp and at the top of her game so that meant sacrificing her fun tonight. It was the part of her new career she hated the most, but it was necessary if she wasn't going to get caught.

"Selina."

She turned to see him walking up the stairway behind her.

"Yeah?"

"Um, well, are you doing anything tonight?" Clark asked.

He surprised her again with that.

"Stepping out of your league a bit, aren't you Clark?"

When he didn't seem to understand what she was talking about she made it clear.

"Are you really trying to ask me out?"

"What? Oh, no, no, that wasn't what I meant at all,' he quickly clarified. "I'm sort of seeing someone already. Sort of."

"Then what are you asking, Clark?"

He took another step or two so they were closer.

"I just thought if you weren't doing anything, maybe you'd like to have some dinner with me' he said. "You were right about me being new in town too. Other than work I really don't know anybody yet and thought it would be nice not to eat alone again."

She eyed him for a moment.

"Is this on the level?"

"The what?'

"You just want to have dinner?"

"Pizza,' he explained. "I know it's not much, but it's from Giaconda's down the street. I can't speak for the rest of the city, but it's the best I've had."

Selina took a step down so she was closer and looking in him the eye.

"What's your deal, Clark?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you're trying to pick me up you have a weird way of doing it,' she said. "It wouldn't work, but it is original. I'll give you that."

It was Clark's turn to be surprised.

"I'm not, I mean, yes you're very attractive, but I'm not trying to pick you up, I swear."

"Then what's this?" She asked

"An invitation to share a pizza?"

"That's it?" She skeptically asked.

"I've got coffee or pop,' he replied. "I didn't think to grab any beer or anything."

She still wasn't buying it. Men never just asked her to dinner without strings attached.

"Again, what's your deal, Clark?"

"You said that before,' he answered. "I was just heading up to my apartment to watch some TV and eat this alone and I figured if you had nothing else to do you might like to join me. That's all, really."

"That's all?"

"Yeah,' he replied. "I told you I don't know that many people in town yet. You and I kind of got off on the wrong foot the last time, so I just thought I'd ask. If you don't want to, that's okay, too."

Selina was still having a bit of trouble understanding this. He said he wasn't hitting on her, yet he was inviting her to his apartment for dinner. Sure, it was just pizza, but still.

Clark could see she was thinking it over. It had just been an idea that popped into his head. Since he'd been in Gotham, other than lunch with his coworkers and dinner with Dinah he'd pretty much spent most of his time alone. Working 70 hours a week didn't give him much time to meet other people. He'd only met Selina once, but figured it was worth asking. Spending another night eating dinner in front of the TV alone was starting to get depressing.

"It's Giaconda's pizza, the works," he said, opening the box to show her.

Selina eyes the pizza. It did look good and she hadn't really had anything to eat all day. Part of her was still suspicious this was part of the weirdest pick-up she'd ever heard, but she'd dealt with more than her share of unwanted advances in the past. Another part of her wondered if he could actually be on the level. She understood not wanting to eat alone. Even in a city the size of Gotham it was easy to become anonymous, not knowing anyone even your neighbors. Still another part of Selina was just hungry. The pizza looked good.

It was that last part that made the final decision.

"All right, Clark,' she finally said. "Let me just drop my mail off and I'll be down."

"Great, thanks,' he replied with a smile.

"I'm surprised you didn't pick some chain place. Giaconda's pizza is the best around."

She turned and continued up the stairs, aware he was right behind her. She figured he was probably checking her out, since that's what most men did. She was okay with that, as long as that's as far as it went. They reached the landing on his floor and she turned to look at him again. He was looking into her eyes.

"I'll leave the door open so just come in,' Clark said as he opened his apartment door. Selina had to shake her head and smile, as this was still the strangest pick-up she'd ever heard. She continued up to her place, wondering what his angle was.

* * *

Clark set the pizza box down on the table in the living room and went to get some plates. He realized how this must look to her but it really wasn't like that. Even growing up in a small town, Clark was used to having and knowing people around him. In college, first in the dorms and then in an apartment, he had roommates. While he still had times when he was alone, he interacted with friends and family all his life. Since arriving in Gotham that had changed. He'd introduced himself to most of his neighbors, but they seemed weary of strangers. He was starting to understand the phrase, alone in a crowd.

For all practical purposes, Clark had grown up as a human, despite his origins. Humans are by nature social animals. Packs, tribes, herds, it only takes a few minutes looking around to see these are normal behaviors. Yes, there are always the outliers that live a solitary existence, but most of us want and need to be around other people. Clark wasn't any different. His invitation to Selina wasn't about picking her up, but more about just not wanting to be alone another night.

He was just setting a roll of paper towels down next to the pizza box when he looked up and saw her in the doorway.

"Knock, knock,' she said.

"Come in. Make yourself comfortable."

Selina closed the door behind her. As she moved towards the couch she took in the set up. Pizza, plain white plates, two cans of Coke, some cheap flatware and paper towels as napkins, lay spread out on the center table. If this was a pick-up, it was certainly a cheap one, she thought. Taking a seat in the middle of the couch, she waited to see if he was going to sit next to her. He didn't, taking the seat across from her. Opening the pizza box he gestured for her to help herself, even as he took a slice and placed it on his plate.

"Don't be shy, help yourself,' Clark offered.

"I'm never shy,' Selina replied. Leaning forward, she took a slice. Giaconda's pizza was good, she knew. It was a local family run joint that had been in the neighborhood for ages. It was still hot and the cheese ooze from the sides onto the plate. Clark reached over and tore off a paper towel and offered it to her.

"Napkin?"

"Going all out, huh?" She joked, but accepted the towel.

"I have dish towels if that would be better?" He replied. She got the humor and smiled, as she brought her legs up and sat with them crossed under her.

"You really know how to make a woman feel special, Clark,' Selina teased, as she took her first bite of the pizza. It was good, hot and spicy just the way she liked it. He laughed at this, but starting digging in to his slice. They sat like this in silence for a few minutes just eating. Selina had been watching him the whole time. As she picked up her third slice and put it on her plate, she shook her head. Reaching for the Coke, she popped the top and took a drink.

"So you really weren't hitting on me, were you?' She finally said.

"No,' he said between mouthfuls. "Just offering to share a pizza with you."

Strangely, Selina found she liked that even more. She had thought she had this farm boy figured out, but he pleasantly surprised her.

"I guess I had you wrong too, Clark,' she admitted.

"How so?" He asked, tearing off another paper towel and wiping his mouth.

"In my experience most guys just pretend to be nice guys to get something,' she explained. "You're just a nice guy, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so,' he replied.

Selina took another sip of the Coke.

"So thought about the advice I gave you?' She asked.

"Which part?' He said with a grin. "You gave me a lot of advice the other night."

"Leaving."

"Yeah, I thought about it,' he admitted. "I'm not. I've got a pretty good job here, so I want to stay a bit longer."

"A reporter is a dangerous job in Gotham, Clark."

"Yeah, I did some research on what you said and I see that now,' he replied. "My job isn't like that. I basically sit in an office and synthesize other people's work into a coherent narrative. I'm more of an organizer of information at this point. None of that field work that gets reporters in trouble."

"That sounds healthier in the long run,' Selina commented.

"Maybe. It's a start and I've learned a lot already."

He took a sip of his Coke and looked at her.

"So how about you, Selina? I know nothing about you?"

"Women like to be mysterious, or haven't you heard, Clark?' She offered with a sly smile. "Besides you're the reporter, you tell me."

"Is that a challenge?" He asked.

"Maybe."

Wiping his mouth and hands, Clark took another sip off the can of pop and sat back.

"You've lived your whole life in Gotham?'

"Is that a question?" She asked.

"Yes, that's what reporters do, ask questions,' he replied. "So have you?"

"Yes."

"Any family?"

"No.' There was an edge to her response he couldn't miss.

"I'm sorry,' he said. "Mine are gone too. I know what it's like."

Selina seemed to relax a bit.

"So what sort of work do you do, Selina?"

"I'm in acquisitions, you could say." She said with that sly smile again.

"What do you acquire?"

"Whatever catches my eye."

"Must be an interesting job,' Clark suggested.

"It can be,' she replied.

"You're not going to tell me much are you?"

"You do catch on fast, maybe there is a chance for you in Gotham,' Selina said with a laugh. Her next words quickly shifted the subject away from her. "So reporters just ask questions, huh? How about I give it a try with you, Clark?"

"Ask away."

"If you'd have known whom those two worked for, would you have still stepped in to help Melinda?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his reply.

"Do you know what Melinda does for a living, Clark?" Selina asked.

"No, but that really doesn't matter does it?"

"It might to some,' she suggested.

"Selina, I know you think I'm something of a innocent fool, but it was happening right out there on the landing in front of my door,' Clark replied. "What was I supposed to do, just pretend it wasn't happening and slink into my apartment? Two thugs were slapping a helpless woman around on my doorstep, how could I not get involved?"

"No one else in the building did,' she pointed out.

"We each have to live with ourselves,' Clark offered. "Maybe it's because I come from a small town, but I couldn't. You said you earlier you were surprised I didn't pick some chain pizza place. The reason I didn't has to do with being from a small town too. It's nothing against the chain franchises. They provide jobs to people and do a lot of good things, but I grew up on a farm. We grew most of our own food. The extra we would sell at a local farm market, just like the other farmers in the area. We didn't grow peaches, but someone else did. Why would we go to a store and buy them, instead of buying them from one of our neighbors? We knew these people and buying their peaches helped them and the community we both lived in. When someone was having hard times, we all pitched in as a community to help. In the end it not only helped them, but it strengthened the community as a whole."

Selina just listened to him, not interrupting.

"I live in Gotham now,' he continued. "This building and the neighborhood around it are the new community I find myself in. Why wouldn't I frequent a local pizzeria when they live in the same neighborhood I do? How could I just do nothing when violence was happening right on my doorstep to one of my new neighbors? The philosopher Emmanuel Kant's categorical imperative states, 'Act as if the maxim of your action were to become through your will a general natural law.'

Selina gave him a look at this last bit. Clark realized he'd gone a little overboard in his explanation.

"I had to work really hard to pay for college,' he offered. "Wanted to get some use out of what they taught. I paid a lot of money for it."

Selina smiled.

"I was right, you're never going to last in Gotham,' she said with a chuckle. She stopped and gave him a softly look. "You're not a fool, though, I was wrong about that."

"Well, that's a start,' he sheepishly replied.

They both silently went back to eating. The conversation stayed lighter for the rest of dinner. When they were finished, Selina thanked him and said good night. She walked back to her apartment and couldn't help wondering what the deal was with her strange, yet interesting new neighbor.


	9. Chapter 9

Blocks

Gotham

The Bohemian District was a bit of urban renewal where a formerly low-income neighborhood had been swept clean of the people in that low-income bracket and replaced by people in the upwardly mobile, upper middle class income bracket. The century old brownstones, formerly apartments, had been gutted and converted into townhouses and lofts. The new price tags reflected this. The park at the center of the neighborhood, which had been around since the Civil War had also been spruced up, which meant the homeless were no longer allowed to loiter in the day or sleep on the benches at night.

Clark was brown bagging it for lunch. The park was near the offices, so it was nice to get some fresh air and clear his mind. His eyes had felt like they were burning for the last several days and he put it down to staring at a computer monitor for hours on end. He tried eye drops and they helped a bit but not enough. He'd started wearing glasses, not prescription ones, but just something with a bit of a tint to cut down some of the glare.

As he fished out the sandwich and bag of chips he'd packed, he couldn't help noticing what everyone at the office had been mentioning. He'd been skipping meals to save some money while at the same time seemingly constantly on the go, so he'd inadvertently lost perhaps 15 pounds since he arrived in Gotham. It made his clothes seem baggy on his tall, still muscular frame. It struck him as strange how something so small could change people's perception of him. In college he was mistaken for a football player most often, but now with the glasses and the weight loss he'd heard more than one of his new colleagues refer to him as a classic nerd. It probably had a lot to do with his new job and always being seen glued to a computer, but those small changes just added to it.

Taking a bite out of the sandwich, he looked around at the neighborhood. It had all the usual suspects, chain restaurants, coffee shops, Internet cafes and hip, over-priced clubs. If the signs hadn't included the word Gotham in them, he could have been in any large city anyway in the country. He still felt like an outsider. The more he learned about the city, the more he realized what a steep learning curve he had in front of him.

He'd been thinking about the title of the magazine, Dérive. Philosophy hadn't been his area of study in college, especially French philosophy, but he thought he got the gist of the idea. Dérive basically meant exploring an urban environment, or in layman's terms, a city. Maybe being a newcomer, Clark was able to notice it more but people's lives always seemed to form patterns. Even in his case, the route he took to work and back had become routine, same way there, same way back. Life becomes a repeating series of circles and squares.

Knowing he needed to learn more about the city, he began exploring it on foot after he got off work. He would just walk for blocks with no particular direction in mind. He'd just let scenario dictate which way he went. In a manner it reminded him of following links on the Internet. You might start out on one topic, but the further you got away from that original idea, the more you found new and unexpected discoveries just waiting out there.

As he walked around, he tried talking to people, just regular people he happened to run into. They always seemed to know he was a new comer. At first they were usually hesitant to talk, but his being new helped ease their concerns. They all liked talking about their city, Gotham. More than just the buildings and streets, in those conversations he learned about the psyche of the city and it's citizens. Everyone had an opinion and the one that seemed to echo over and over all around the city was that at its core there was something evil. To the people living here the city wasn't a just a collection of streets and buildings, but alive.

A portrait began to emerge of Gotham as a dark and foreboding metropolis rife with crime, grime, corruption, and a deep-seated sense of urban decay in parts of the city. It struck him as odd, people that used those words would still stay in such a horrible place, but the more he listened the more he began to understand. Gotham was alive in their minds, vibrant, dynamic and full of a strange, restless energy and creativity. They always added a caveat that as bad as it was now, it used to be worse. It was as if they'd been living on the edge for so long, they didn't know any other way to live.

As an outsider, but now a resident, Clark began to formulate his own ideas about the city. It wasn't evil so much that defined what he saw in Gotham, but fear. It was in the eyes of the people he passed on the street, if only for a fleeting moment. Perhaps it was the years of corruption and violence, but the people of Gotham seemed more like victims than citizens.

If you've ever had something taken from you, stolen, you understand the fear that Clark saw in Gotham. A woman comes out of work late and on the way to her car she's mugged. A young man walking home gets into an altercation and is shot. A family comes home from a night at the movies only to find a window broken and their things missing. It starts as fear, but anger usually follows. You're pissed at the robberies, the city in general for allowing this to happen and at yourself for feeling helpless. Time goes on and the anger grows but that sense of helplessness brings you back to fear.

The more you think about what happened the more the thought that you somehow contributed to it happening creeps in. The fear begins to change your habits. You don't stay as late at work. You watch how you dress. You don't go to those neighborhoods after dark. You just have to be more careful and cautious so it doesn't happen again.

Others feed into this fear. Your friends always have suggestions after the fact about how you could have avoided it. Companies make a nice living offering ways to make you feel less helpless and less afraid. Security systems, guard dogs, tasers and even guns all come with the promise that next time things will be different.

The world around you seems to be a more dangerous place than it used to. Strangers aren't just strangers anymore, they're possible threats. Your world becomes smaller, as you adhere to those set patterns you've already established. Curiosity wanes towards new things, as they usually require deviating from those familiar circles and squares. This is what happens when a place becomes used to being afraid. It's what happens to the people that live in that place too.

* * *

Police Headquarters

The commissioner stood alone on the rooftop. He took a deep breath before going over to the spotlight that dominated his field of view. Jim Gordon was a good man, a decent husband and father and a dedicated cop. Before coming to Gotham if someone had told him he'd be doing something like what he was about to do, he'd have laughed and called them crazy.

He turned on the signal. The Bat-signal shot up into the darkness.

All the things people said about Gotham's new Dark Knight, Jim Gordon had thought of too. The man was a vigilante working outside the law, a self-appointed crime fighter. The things Batman did weren't strictly legal in most cases and broke several laws in others. As commissioner he should be locking the Batman up, not asking for his help. Perhaps in another city or another time, that's what Gordon would have done. Only this wasn't another city, it was Gotham. The corruption ran so deep and seemed to be ingrained in every part of the local government, including the police force. They say desperate times call for desperate actions. Gordon was desperate. He had a monumental task in front of him and too few people he trusted.

The Batman had saved Jim Gordon son's life. He didn't have to, but he risked his own life to do it. He didn't know who the Batman was under that mask, but his actions told Gordon all he needed to know about him. The Batman was an ally, someone he could trust.

The whispers about Gotham's new hero had spread quickly. For once the crime families that represented so much of what was rotten in the city were afraid. Finally they were getting a taste of what everyone else in Gotham lived with. It was still early, but things were starting to change. Already with Batman's help, Gordon had rooted out some of the cops on the take. There were still plenty more, but now they were feeling the heat.

"What' the topic tonight?"

A voice said from the darkness. Gordon felt his heart skip a beat. He turned towards the voice and just saw the outline of the Batman.

"Falcone." Gordon replied. "We're hearing rumors of something going down between his people and the Maroni crime family."

"You'll hear more."

"They're going to war, now?" Gordon asked. "They've both taken some major hits recently, thanks to you. Why now?"

"Because of those hits you just spoke of they're both afraid to look weak right now,' the Batman replied. "Someone else sees that as an opportunity. If a war starts between the two families, ask yourself who benefits?"

"All the smaller families."

"Exactly."

"But none of them would take the risk,' Gordon offered. "If this got back to either Maroni or Falcone, it would be suicide."

"Unless it was someone that dreamed big,' Batman replied. "Someone that knows how the game is played. Someone that can whisper in councilmen's ear, perhaps even the major's."

"Rupert Thorne,' Gordon whispered. "It all makes sense now. He gets the two biggest families fighting, while the smaller ones keep their hands clean. When the dust clears, he has them all in his debt."

"Thorne thinks he's smarter than everyone else. He's not."

"Thanks for the information, Batman."

"Any time, commissioner."

Batman started to disappear back into the shadows, but there was one other thing Gordon wanted to ask.

"Have you been in the East End recently?"

"Yes, why?"

"It's probably nothing, but we've had a couple of attempted muggings that were stopped,' Gordon explained. "The victims said a man in a red cape just appeared out of nowhere and took down the muggers. He disappeared just as fast."

"Red's not my color,' Batman replied. "It wasn't me."

"I didn't think it was,' Gordon said. "It's just that's Falcone territory and there has been a slight tick down in crime there. I was just wondering if this guy in the red cape might not be connected?"

"I'll look into it."

He was gone in the next moment. Gordon turned off the spotlight and stood in the darkness. He told himself the Batman was a good man and the city needed him. That didn't stop Gordon from feeling uneasy about all of it. He was an old school cop and this went against everything he'd believed. He'd made his deal with the devil, now he just had to live with it.

* * *

Gotham Bay

It was like some floating Macy's Thanksgiving Day float, all glittering and obvious, anchored in the bay. It was called the Iceberg Lounge. Oswald "Penguin" Cobblepot was the man in charge. It had long been a place where deals were made. Whether you were buying or selling, it didn't matter what, this was the place to go.

Dinah couldn't stand not being active. Sitting in her warehouse waiting for more information was driving her crazy. She had too much time to think and right now that was the last thing she wanted to do. She needed to be out here in the middle of things working. Work was the one area of her life she felt safe with, which was ironic considering the kind of work she usually did.

She had experience with the Penguin before, so this time she had to work a different angle than security. Her in was as a waitress. Cobblepot didn't do the hiring for those basic jobs so she could wear a disguise and be part of the scenery as she gathered information on what was happening in town. She was hired immediately. The black wig and heavier makeup changed her features just enough so no one recognized her. The waitress outfit left a lot to be desire though. Pencil thin 5 inch black pumps, fishnet stockings, the briefest shorts she'd ever worn and what amounted to a black corset, all top with a laughably small black jacket made her feel more like a showgirl than a waitress.

The usual cast of characters were in the club nightly. Dinah overheard several deals and would pass those along to the authorities. She might still be a fugitive, but an anonymous tip always worked. What she was really interested in was more information on the terrorists that had tried to bomb the stadium. The ones in custody were now in the Feds hands and they weren't sharing what they'd learned. If they learned anything.

Ev had wanted in but Cobblepot knew her too. In an outfit like this, her sleeve of tattoos would be a dead give away. She reluctantly took up surveillance across the bay; waiting to give Dinah back up if the need arise.

A group of strangers came in and were ushered into one of the private rooms. Dinah had planted a bug earlier, but it was a passage type so the daily sweeps of the place wouldn't detect it. She needed to be in range for it to become active. Keeping the fake smile plastered on her face, even as she avoided more eager hands than she could count, Dinah made her way closer to the private room. Frankly she hoped something came up soon because she was very tired of schlepping drinks and being constantly hit on by a bunch of lowlife thugs and sweaty perverts.

* * *

Gotham

Clark ran along the rooftops following the two guys that tried to rough up Melinda. They were in a car on the street below and seemed in a hurry to get somewhere. As they were the only connection he had, he figured they would be a good place to start. A little checking had yielded their names, Carl and Wayne. They were muscle for the family, strictly low-level hoods.

Wearing a plain blue ball cap pulled down low over his eyes, Clark wore what had become his alternative attire for these nightly jaunts. Blue jeans, work boots, white tee shirt with his Kryptonian family crest on it and his red cape. He had to admit at first wearing the cape had felt a lot like being a kid tying a towel around his neck, but the more he did this the more he found he liked the cape. It added a little pizzazz to his otherwise rather bland outfit. The fact that it was bulletproof and pretty much everything proof was also a major positive.

They were heading towards the waterfront. Running as fast as he could, Clark was slowly falling behind them. Thankfully his eyesight seemed to be improving and he was confident they wouldn't lose him. As he jumped from building to building he had to admit he was excited and a bit pumped. He wasn't expecting too much from this, but just maybe he'd find out who their boss was and then follow him up the chain of command.

They hit a straightaway and accelerated. He was falling further behind. The buildings weren't of equal height so he had to jump and climb to make it from one to the other. Clark lost sight of them for a few minutes. He got to the top of the highest building and searched for any sight of them. It took a few minutes, but finally he spotted their car. It was vacant, parked in the shadows behind an empty warehouse. Putting on a burst of speed he headed straight for that location.

* * *

Gotham – Upper West Side

While Selina's affinity for cats was well known, she also had a very favorable reaction to diamonds and pearls. The fact that certain well-known crime bosses collected those two items was just a happy accident in her mind. She was still relatively new at the whole cat burglar/jewel thief racket, but stealing from criminals seemed like a good idea. What were they going to do call the cops? Oh sure, if they caught her they'd most likely beat her first and then kill her, but what's life without some risks?

Selina had heard the same rumors everyone else had on the street. A possible war between crime families was going to be violent and bloody, but it also offered an opportunity. If someone broke into Carmine Falcone's penthouse while he was meeting with his capos, the first conclusion most would jump to would be the Maroni family was responsible. That it might push them a little closer to open warfare was troubling, but Selina justified it as they were going to fight each other anyway. Someone might as well profit, namely her.

Pulling her goggles down, she flicked out her whip and caught the railing of the penthouse. A quick, heart-stopping leap without a net later, she was pulling herself silently over the railing and onto the terrace. She had cased the place earlier and knew there were two guards outside the front door. Falcone was too paranoid to allow even his own men inside his place. Well, maybe this will be a lesson in trust she thought with a smile.

The alarm was easily bypassed and she picked the lock on the terrace door. As she slowly and silently opened it, she glanced back into the night. She'd seen the Bat-signal, so she knew he was on the prowl. Hopefully his little talk with the police commissioner had him occupied elsewhere at the moment. As strongly as Selina was attracted to the Batman, she wasn't interested in seeing him tonight.

* * *

The Waterfront

'Matches' Malone was a low level thug in the sometime employment of Rupert Thorne. He drove the car when he was needed. The call had come in earlier. He picked Thorne up and brought him down to the waterfront. Ten other employees of Thorne, his hired muscle, met them. Matches hid the car around the back and jointed the group on the roof. Thorne had laid a trap for two of Falcone's men. He wanted to send a message that would hopefully started an all out mob family war between Falcone and Maroni. Matches shifted nervously from foot to foot as he watched Throne approach the two Falcone men, Carl and Wayne.

"You boys aren't the brightest bulbs, are you?' Thorne said mockingly.

"We work for Carmine Falcone!" Wayne shouted. Both him and Carl were bound with rope and on their knees.

"I know you do,' Thorne replied. "You're just flunkies, but you'll serve my purpose."

"When Carmine hears about this, you're dead! You hear me, dead!"

"I don't think so."

A string of obscenities followed. Thorne looked with disdain at the two. He turned to his own men.

"Make it look like a Maroni hit. Make it bloody." He instructed. "Matches go bring the car around."

"Yes, sir!" Matches immediately replied and then practically raced down the stairs.

Once he was out of sight, 'Matches' Malone stopped. He scanned the area making sure he was alone. It seemed 'Matches' had a secret. He wasn't the real 'Matches' Malone.

He was the Batman.

He'd been using the cover for almost five months now. It had proven valuable in gather information. Stripping off his disguise, Batman slipped out one of the side windows and headed back towards the rooftop.

* * *

Warehouse District

Clark stood on the nearby rooftop watching everything unfold. It didn't take very long to realize what he'd stumbled on to. This wasn't a meeting between Carl and Wayne with their boss, it was a trap and their execution. They were thugs and criminals, but he couldn't just stand by and watch them die. Taking a few steps back, he got a running start and leaped off the edge and momentarily flew to the other building. He landed hard and tumbled on the cement rooftop. He heard the shouting start, but he moved into action. A tremendous right and then left took two men out immediately. The others saw this and reached for their guns.

"Kill those two and the guy with the S on his chest too!" Throne shouted as he headed for the exit. "Kill them all!"

Clark wrapped his cape around himself and charged, feeling the bullets bounce off. They hurt when they hit him, but his cape offered enough protection. Another two went down as he piled into them and drove them into the ground. As he whirled to confront the other 6, he watched in astonishment as one by one they silently went down. He stood up wondering what had just happened. Something moved towards him out of the corner of his eye and he instinctively grabbed for it. He caught it, feeling it's sharp edge. It was coated with something and he realized that must have been what took the men down. He dropped it immediately, hoping none of it got onto his skin. He could see it plainly in the moonlight, it was a small, bat shaped throwing star.

* * *

"Who are you?' A gravely voice demanded. Clark looked up and sat the dark figure emerge from the shadows and land on the other side of the rooftop. He had thought he was just a myth, a story people had made up, but now he realized the Batman was real and standing right in front of him.

"Are you working for Maroni or Falcone? Tell me!" Batman demanded. Clark instinctively started moving backwards. He saw the Batman flick his wrist and suddenly more projectiles were flying towards him. Batting them away as best he could, Clark knew he wasn't ready for all this. He'd only wanted to find out who Carl and Wayne were working for. He had to do something to prevent their cold-blooded murder but now he was faced with some vigilante crime fighter that up until a moment ago seemed more myth than real. He kept throwing things at Clark so there was no chance to explain. He made a tactically decision, Clark decided to run.

Spinning on his heels, Clark took off in a full sprint towards the edge of the building.

"Stop!" Batman shouted behind him, but Clark wasn't listening. He hit the edge and jumped. He landed on the next building over and kept running. Building after building he jumped to, trying to put as much distance as he could between him and the Batman. Leaping off the rooftop, Clark dropped down seven floors to the street. he landed on his feet and quickly looked around. He turned at the sound of an engine and saw a black tank-like car roar around the corner.

"You got to be kidding me,' Clark said more to himself than anyone. "The guy's got a tank?"

He saw turrets begin to open and knew whatever came out of those wasn't good. One word screamed through his brain - Run! Taking off at top speed, Clark heard something exploded behind him but he didn't look back. He was moving faster than he ever had before, but the tank was gaining on him. Skidding to a stop, Clark changed directions and ran down a narrow alley. It was too narrow for the tank, so he ventured a glance back. He looked just in time to see the tank stop and then part of it disengage from the rest and roar after him

"He's got a tank that's also a motorcycle? What the hell? How does he afford something like that?" Clark gasped.

He had no time for answers as the Batman was closing fast. Pulling his cap down Clark took off again. He knew he couldn't outrun him, so he thought he'd head towards traffic. Running flat out, Clark headed towards the nearest busy street. His walks around town helped as he knew which way was the shortest. He burst out of the side street and had to leap over three oncoming cars. Horns began to sound as cars slammed on their brakes. Clark didn't stop and headed against traffic, running over cars when he had to.

* * *

Batman skidded to a stop, barely avoiding the cars. He revved the motor and saw the man in the red cape rushing away, leaping over cars and moving at an incredibly speed. Who is this guy, he wondered? He was hot in pursuit in the next moment.

* * *

Clark shouted apologizes as he dented a few hoods running over them. He could hear the motorcycle still behind him, so he ran that much faster. Another alley loomed up ahead and Clark made for it.

* * *

As the man in the red cape disappeared around the corner into the alley, Batman knew he had him. It was a dead-end. Turning on his high beams, he raced ahead and flooded the alley with light. The man in the red cape wasn't in it. Where the hell did he go? Glancing up Batman spotted him. He had jumped up to the fifth story fire escape and was heading for the roof. Who is this guy, Batman thought again? What is he some sort of superman?

* * *

Clark made the final leap and was on the rooftop. A second passed and then he heard the sound of something impacting against the ledge. It was a grappling hook of some kind. Doesn't this guy give up, Clark wondered? They were both on foot now, so Clark took off again, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. He glanced back only to see the Batman was still following.

Clark was getting close to the water and running out of buildings. He'd put some distance between them, but the man was still coming. He jumped again and was now on the last building before the water. He went to the edge and then looked back. He was still coming. Clark groaned and then took about ten steps back from the edge. Batman was on the next building over and would be on him in moments. Taking a deep breath, Clark ran as fast as he could towards the edge and jumped with all his might.

* * *

Gotham Bay

Dinah had managed to turn on the listening device and was trying to hear what they were saying. Customers kept calling for her, so she had to do her job or break cover. She was returning from the bar with a tray full of drinks when Ev shouted in her ear.

"In coming!"

Dinah just had enough time to look up as the glass ceiling exploded into a million pieces as a man came crashing through. The club was filled with screams from the panicking customers, as glass showered down on everyone. Dinah dumped the drinks and used her tray as a shield. She saw the man falling and figured from that height no one could survive. Only he landed and started running. His hat slipped a bit, but he quickly pulled it back down over his eyes. Dinah gasped in shock, but then another crash came from above. Batman swung down on his line and landed not five feet away from her.

Dinah had met Batgirl, briefly, but her status as a fugitive made her weary of meeting anyone else. She froze for a moment, waiting to see what he'd do. He didn't even seem to notice her as he immediately took off after the first guy.

* * *

Clark was running out of ideas. The guy just won't quit. Clark raced to the edge of the club and there was nothing but water in front of him. Glancing back he saw Batman was still coming. Let's hope the guy doesn't have a submarine, Clark prayed and then dove into water. He could hold his breath a long time, so he would be well away before he had to surface.

* * *

Batman stood at the edge of the water, looking for any signs of the man in the red cape. Seconds ticked by. No one should be able to hold his or her breath that long, he thought. Who is this guy?

He could hear Cobblepot's hired guys approaching. He had no doubt he could take them, but there were too many civilians. Grumbling with frustration, Batman fired another line and disappeared into the night.

* * *

The place was in chaos, people running everywhere and screaming. Dinah moved slowly towards the edge of the water and gazed out where the man in the red cape had disappeared.

"Clark."


	10. Chapter 10

Being Noticed

For most of us the thought of being noticed is a good thing. We like the idea that we're finally standing out from the crowd and that people are finally recognizing what we've always believed. We're special. We want to believe like fingerprints we're all unique. In most cases we're probably not. Some might think that's a sad or pessimistic view, but in reality it's really not.

There are what, five-six billion people alive right now? Take into account the countless billions that have already died and is it really believable that every single one of them since the beginning of time was unique and special? Just like us they probably all wanted to believe they were special, but simple math tells you that's highly unlikely.

On the grand scale, we're all pretty much alike. Sure there are surface differences that people have always latched onto and probably always will, but those are just that, surface differences.

Take one of your distant ancestors for example. Ukay they probably had some distinctive worries that you don't, like making sure no one let fire in the pit go out, that sort of thing, but they had the same wants and needs you do for the most part. They wanted not to be killed or suffer some horrible existence, which we can assume you don't either. They preferred not to starve and wanted a roof over their head. They were interested in people not fucking with them, whether it be the elders of the village, the spirits, the local king or queen or the tribe one hill over. They wanted some happiness in their lives. They wanted to find someone to be with and maybe have a family. They wanted their kids not to be douches. They wanted to look back at the end and feel like it all meant something.

Not being unique and special isn't the worst thing. It's being normal. Now many of your motivational speakers and self-help gurus would object to this view. They would say you are unique and special; you only need to put into practice their five basic principals to achieve it. It will cost you anywhere from 49.95 to several thousand dollars to find out what those secrets are, but who can put a price on being special? Apparently they can. Another of these self help, self-actualization pitchmen would tell you that if you look at the world from your perspective, you're the most important person in it. Without you, there wouldn't be a world, from your point of view. Sounds good in theory, but in practice if we all go around thinking we're the most important person in the world that's like living in asshole central, 24/7.

Now at this point you might be thinking what the fuck? I just read 455 words about how I'm not special? Really? Do you want to tell me I'm not as good looking as I think I am, that I'm sort of average at best? While you're bumming me out, do you want to kick my dog too? What the hell happened to Clark after he dove in to the water? What's Dinah going to do now that she knows Clark's not what he says he is? What's up with Selina? What's Batman going to do? Get back to the story, you're probably saying and stop all this pointless bullshit about how I'm not a unique snowflake.

Okay, that's fair, a little harsh, but fair. There is a point to this, though. It's that not being unique or special is the norm. The vast majority, really an overwhelming majority of us aren't. I'm including myself in that majority. Plenty of people deny they aren't unique or special. It's why they so desperately want to be noticed. They think if people notice them, than they must be special and unique. There's a fallacy in this line of reasoning. If you fall on your face in a crowded room or acted like a jackass in front of a camera, you'll get noticed but that hardly makes you special. It makes you sad and pathetic, like those parents that exploit their kids so they can get some reflected attention for themselves. It's like the guests on Maury or Hoarders or Intervention or a hundred other shows where people humiliate themselves for the viewers just to get noticed.

Flip the script for a moment and put yourself in Clark Kent's place. You're 22. Through circumstances beyond your control, you didn't grow up with any special abilities. Other than where you were originally from, you were like everyone else. Your adopted parents did their best so you wouldn't feel different, but normal. Now though, things have begun to change. While you always considered yourself the same, events are starting to tell you you're not. Everyday it seems you are getting stronger, faster and other abilities seemed to be just on the edge of your perception. You just outran a motorcycle and a tank driven by what you previously thought was a mythical figure. You crashed through a nightclub glass ceiling, took a 60-foot fall, landed and ran away from it without a scratch. You suddenly realize that everyday you're becoming different than everyone around you. You're amazed at what's happening to you but scared at the same time. You are changing so fast. You need time to adjust, to get your head around what's happening to you and begin to understand it. That last thing you want is to be noticed.

And there's the point.

Truly special and unique people have no need to shout look at me to get noticed. Because they are so rare, we all know the real ones when we see them.

* * *

Gotham – East Bay

The lights from the Iceberg Lounge could be seen glimmering in the darkness, even out here in the narrows. Soaked to his skin, Clark emerged from the water and climbed up dilapidated pier. Gotham's renewal hadn't reached this part of town yet, if it ever would. Abandon and crumbling buildings, with long ago boarded up, broken out windows stared out blankly into the darkness. The area had the feel of a forsaken and forgotten battlefield, where the participants had long since moved on.

He's lost his ball cap in the mad dash to escape. Slipping off his cape and shirt, Clark did his best to wring the water from them. His boots and socks will have to wait. He slipped them off, preferring to go barefoot then trudge back to his apartment wearing them. Tying a knot in the laces, he slung them over his shoulder. The tee shirt was as dry as he was going to get it, so he put it back on so as not to draw too much attention to himself. Barefoot he might escape notice, barefoot and shirtless the odds weren't good.

Clark ran his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back and looked around to get his bearings. He could probably run back to his apartment in no time, but he didn't know if the Batman was still looking for him. The man seemed obsessed in his pursuit and the last thing Clark wanted was to lead him back to where he lived. He used the word man on purpose, as now having come face to face with him, Clark was certain that's what the Batman was, just a man. His array of gadgets and weapons were a bit overwhelming, but inside that suit was just a man.

Part of Clark felt upset for running. He wans't a coward, yet the situation got so out of hand, so fast, he just reacted. Once he was moving, there seemed no way to turn back. He didn't want to fight the Batman, but short of doing that, Clark didn't see anyway to explain. There was also the simple fact that Clark was still new at all of this. He'd just set out to do a little surveillance, but when faced with watching two men about to be murdered in front of his eyes, he couldn't do nothing. He realized he still had a lot to learn about the city and what he was getting himself involved in.

As he made his way down the deserted streets towards his apartment, Clark finally had time to consider what had just happened in detail. The running he would get over, but what he'd been able to do shook him. He knew he was stronger and faster, but in the heat of the moment he'd done things he didn't think were possible. The jump from the last building to the floating nightclub had to be well over 75 feet and the fall through the glass ceiling almost equal. He hadn't stopped for a moment. Taking inventory now as he walked, Clark couldn't find a scratch on him. A normal man would have broken every bone in his body attempting something like that, yet here Clark was walking down the street as if it were nothing.

The unsettling question what the hell was he becoming, seemed to reverberate through his being. When the Kents finally told him the story of his arrival, Clark had wanted to know everything. Jonathan Kent had taking him out to where he'd hidden the spacecraft Clark arrived in. It had been badly damaged on the trip and only fragments of its memory files and images were still available. He'd learn he was from a planet called Krypton. His biological parents were Jor-El and Lara. They had sent him away as a last ditch effort to save him from their dying planet. There were brief hints at his potential under a yellow sun, but he never found anything concrete.

When nothing happened, Clark was disappointed at first, but finally just accepted it. Now he had to rethink everything he'd believed. If the sun was the reason he was getting stronger and faster, what would happen in the future? Would it just continue? Would he eventually mutate into something else, some other form? A million questions popped into his mind and he had no answers for any of them.

* * *

He heard them moving all around him, like young wolves swarming towards their prey. They thought they were being quiet and to anyone else they're approach wouldn't have been known. The thought they smelled weakness, prey. They were wrong.

Just the hint of weakness in this part of Gotham brought the human cockroaches out of the woodwork.

Weaker animals band together to attack the stronger animals. Individually a dog has no shot against a deer, but get a hungry, desperate pack of them together and the odds shift. The weak have numbers on their side. Perhaps we are witnessing them inherit the Earth right before our eyes. With each passing day we see, the rich and powerful retreat behind gates and fences. They have basically giving up on being part of society as a whole. They remain in their little island sanctuaries, while the weak begin to band together and make demands unheard of before now.

Gotham was no different and in some ways on the cutting edge of this divide. The police and government officials had surrendered whole sections of the city. Every decent citizen knew which areas not to go into. Bands of roving gangs moved through these parts looking for someone or something they could attack and profit from. Individually they might be weak, but they still had the same desires, weaknesses and anger as everyone else. When they band together, these dark desires came out in acts of violence and rage. The worst abuser is someone who has been abused. They know the scent of weakness because they've lived with it their whole lives.

Clark could see the shadows moving all around him. The night air began to fill with sounds. They were made by humans, but resembled animals, baying, growling, and then sharp, staccato bursts of grunts. It was like some call to their intended prey to let them know it was already too late. Clark stopped in the middle of the street. This time he had some warning, he wouldn't be running.

"Warriors, come out to play,' a haunting high pitched voice shouted. Hard angry laughter followed.

One by one they stepped from the shadows. A ragtag band of mismatched clothes hung from their feral bodies. A symbol, one they probably didn't even know it's meaning, appears on all of them, identifying them as part of the pack. Clark could see the excitement in their eyes. They saw him as a victim, alone and weak, while they were many and strong in numbers.

Clark straightened and waited. They taunted him and he said nothing in reply. They took his silence as fear.

"You don't need to do this,' he finally offered. "I'm just trying to get home. Just let me pass and that will be the end of it. I don't want to hurt you."

They laughed and shouted obscenities at him, giving him a vivid picture of what they intended to do. From the graphic descriptions, Clark knew this wasn't the first time they've done something like this. Anger flared through him, as he thought about those other victims. They were probably just like him, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time or just trying to get home. He remained calm though, offering them another chance not to do this.

"Walk away, please."

The word please sparked many of them to laugh thinking this was begging on him part. A few though, the smarter ones didn't laugh and took a second, longer look at him. Eventually, if this gang survived, they would be the leaders, but right now they moved to the back and let others make the first attack.

They were clumsy, so sure of their numbers that they didn't consider tactics or strategy. Clark set his boots down, wrapped his cape around his shoulders again and waited from them. They found this amusing and rushed towards him. The first fist that moved towards his face was caught in midair. A swift jerk and the body attached to it went flying. The rest reached for weapons wanting to take the fight out of him as quickly as possible. They had guns, but at this point in their assault they preferred to wound their prey so they could toy with it for awhile.

Chains, knives, bats and anything they could use, appeared as they advance on Clark. He didn't run, but began to move forward. This wasn't going the way the pack thought it would go. They double down, becoming more savage in their attack. Clark winced as chains slashed across his back and bats swung at his knees. He realized they would show no mercy and for once he decided not to either. The fight shifted. Screams filled the alley as he gave no quarter, flashing through these young thugs, reminding them they were weak and he was strong. One fighter after the other crumble under a barrage of his fists. They saw the symbol on his chest and began to realize they had chosen the wrong person tonight. Some turn and ran, the fear overwhelming them. The smartest gang member stayed on the edge of the battle. Somehow he knows this was his moment. If he could take this man down, he would take command of the pack.

If he succeeded, this gang would grow and prosper, becoming a force in Gotham's future. This moment would decide all of their fates. He slowly pulled his gun and took careful aim. A strange calm came over him as he squeezed the trigger. As the bullet hurdled towards Clark countless possibilities open for just an instant. The bullet's aim was true but at the last possible moment he dodged it. It shouldn't be possible the young gang member with the gun thought. The window of opportunity was closing before his eyes.

"What are you?'

He fired again and again, each succeeding shot wilder than the previous one. The man with the S on his chest dodged each shot, even though that shouldn't be possible. Somewhere deep inside the young man's mind he knew he's missed his chance. His possible bright future suddenly went dark. He kept pulling the trigger but had long run out of bullets. The night had suddenly gone quiet and still. His comrades laid unconscious on the ground all around the stranger. A moment later the gun was knocked from his hand and he was lifted off his feet and thrust against the hard brick wall. A fist moved at incredible speed towards him and he knew if it made impact he would be dead.

"Please, no,' he begged.

Clark had been caught up in the moment, but at the last instant, redirected his punch. It his the brick wall, punching a hole through it. He dropped the young man from his grasp. Huddling on the ground, the young gang member began to cry.

"I'm giving you all another chance, don't make me regret it"

Clark turned, went back to pick up his shoes and then disappeared into the night.

* * *

Later

Once the man in the red cape had jumped into the water, Batman had to calculate all the possibilities of where he might emerge. Having seen some of what he could do, Batman wasn't about to let it go. He'd already checked three possible locations when he arrived at the East Bay only to find the remains of the fight. He knew all about the gangs over on this side of the city. This was a particularly new, young and nasty one. Batman knew immediately they had met the young man in the red cape.

Most of the gang was still trying to shake off the effects of the fight. Batman saw the one huddle against the wall wiping away tears. He was the one he would talk to. Moments later they were alone. The young man was scared and that's what Batman wanted.

"What happened here?" he demanded in his gravely voice.

"We-We-We was at-attacked."

"Don't lie to me!"

The young man cringed and started crying again. Something had broken him before the Batman had arrived.

"Tell me!" Batman demanded.

"He was alone,' the young man began. "We-We thought he'd be easy, you know. He-He was … just too fast, too strong. We didn't have a chance."

"Describe him,' Batman coldly asked.

"A Superman."

* * *

Gotham – Later

With the adrenaline pumping through him, Clark made it back to his apartment in record time. He stripped off his still wet things and hung them up to dry. A long, hot shower later, he put on a pair of old jeans and a shirt. He'd calmed down in the meantime. Sitting on his couch, Clark looked at his hand. He turned it over and over slowly. He'd put it through a brick wall, yet it wasn't broken. There wasn't even a scratch.

The realization hit Clark if his fist had made contact with the young gang member instead of the wall, he would have killed him.

"What the hell am I becoming?"

Before he could find an answer, there was a knock at his door. Clark glanced at the clock and saw how late it was. Slowly he went over and looked through the peephole. He saw blond hair and instantly thought of Dinah. He opened the door with a smile.

"Dinah!" He said.

In the fraction of a second between opening the door and saying her name, Clark saw an angry expression on her face. In the next moment she jumped into the air and her leg shot out, driving her foot into his chest with full force. He was caught off guard and stumbled back. He hit the back of the couch and flipped over it. He was up in the next moment, looking at her in shock.

"What the hell was that for?" He asked.

Dinah stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

"You lied to me, Clark!" She shouted. "Just who the hell are you?"


	11. Chapter 11

Noticed

Gotham

The East End – 20 minutes earlier

"Maybe you should just slow down and rethink this, Di."

"No."

Ev couldn't hide the concern in her voice. She and Dinah were on the rooftop of the building next to Clark's. After the scene at the nightclub, they made a quick stop at Dinah's warehouse/apartment and then headed straight here. Ev hadn't seen Dinah like this before, so cold, so focused. Ev tried talking with Dinah on the way over, but the responses she got were the bare minimum. What Ev managed to learn from the bits and pieces was that somehow Clark had lied to Dinah. She didn't say it, but Ev could hear the hurt plainly in Dinah's voice.

What exactly Clark had done, Dinah wouldn't say. She just said he wasn't who he said he was. Apparently they were here so Dinah could find out the truth, but Ev didn't like the way this was playing out. Dinah had carried a black bag out of her place and it was on the roof between them. Dinah never took her eyes off Clark's window.

"Can you at least tell me what he did?" Eve asked.

"He's been playing me from the moment we met,' Dinah calmly replied. "He's not just some nice normal guy from the sticks."

"What is he then?"

"That's what I'm going to find out." Dinah answered. "If he's working for Lynch or some other agency, he's going to tell me."

"What? You think they placed him here because of you? You think he's an agent?"

"I don't have those answers, yet, Ev."

Ev let the possibility roll around in her mind for a minute. Dinah wasn't the only one with connections and from everything Ev had been able to learn, Clark wasn't connected with anyone. She had to wonder if Dinah's paranoia wasn't getting the best of her.

"He checks out, Di," Ev offered. "None of my sources have ever heard of him."

"Have your sources every heard of Team 7 or the department that ran it?" Dinah countered.

"Well, no." Ev admitted. "Rumors have been out there, but nothing definitive."

"It's real, I was there. I saw all the bodies,' Dinah said. "The people that ran it aren't the types that let you just walk away. They'll do anything to get me back in the fold or if that's not possible, kill me."

"Look, I know you've been involved in some heavy black ops…"

"No, you really don't know, Ev,' Dinah said, cutting her off. "This goes beyond any black ops. It's so far beyond that. It's monstrous and invisible."

"I'm sure it was bad, Dinah, but this seems excessive."

"Gamorra, tell me what you think happened to that island nation, Ev?" Dinah asked.

"What? Gamorra? It was an earthquake or something that caused a tidal wave,' Ev replied. "The place was devastated, hundreds of thousands dead. They did one of those big concert benefits for it and broadcast it all over the world. I think I even sent some money."

Dinah turned and looked at Ev. Slowly she shook her head no.

"It was a disaster all right, but there was nothing natural about it."

"What? No way, Dinah,' Ev replied in shock.

"I was there, Ev,' Dinah whispered. "I had a front row seat for what they are willing to do. Kurt died there."

"You're saying Team 7 was responsible?"

"We didn't know it going in, but yes."

"But how could they cover something that big up?"

"They can and they did,' Dinah replied. "Now you're starting to understand just how dangerous these people are."

Ev turned and looked at the still darkened window of Clark's apartment.

"And you think he's a part of that?" Ev asked.

"I don't know,' Dinah admitted. "I wouldn't put anything passed them. It's their type of play though. They never come at you straight on; they liked to slide up from the side with a smile. You never see it coming."

"I still don't buy he's an agent, Dinah."

"I don't know what to believe anymore, but I'm going to find out."

The light in Clark's apartment came on. Dinah just stood looking at it, not saying a word. Outwardly she was calm and cool, ice cold, but inside her guts were churning and her mind was screaming. She was so angry and confused, mostly at herself. When she met Clark, Dinah thought maybe, just maybe, she could have a normal relationship with an ordinary guy. She liked him more than she wanted to admit. Their day at the ballpark had felt a million miles away from the world she'd been in. It was like a glimpse into what might have been, if she hadn't been so blind and so trusting.

For a while there she actually thought she just might be able to leave that world behind her. It was probably the moment and wishful thing that they would ever let her go. But when she was with Clark at the ball field, she wanted to believe. She had her suspicions after the terrorists, but still tried to tell herself it didn't have to be what she thought it was. Seeing him crash through the ceiling and fall 60 feet only to run away unharmed brought back all of it and made her feel like a fool.

His cover was so good, though, but now she couldn't help thinking it was just the sort of work Lynch and his team would do. The handsome, innocent young guy fresh off the farm, it sounded like something out of a movie. Apparently it was the perfect bait for luring Dinah out. So much of her young life had been lies and that only made Clark's lies hurt worse. In the tunnels under the ball field he'd asked her to trust him and she did. That just made it worse. It hurt too much and Dinah couldn't handle any more lies.

If Clark turned out to be some sort of Meta agent sent to bring her back to the fold, Dinah would deal with him. If he was an assassin, sent to terminate her because she posed too great a risk, she would deal with that too. Either way, the lies stopped tonight.

Her eyes still on his window, Dinah knelt down and opened the black bag she'd brought. She took out a Beretta 92FS Inox stainless steel pistol. She checked to make sure the magazine was full and then slapped it back in. She lifted up her jacket and slipped it into the hostler she had hidden on her hip. Next she pulled out a oblong leather case and opened it. With the skill of an expert she assembled the weapon. Dinah handed Ev an AS50 long distance sniper rifle.

"You've handled one of these before, haven't you?" She asked.

"Yes, but what am I supposed to do with it here?" Ev replied. "I'm not playing sniper, Dinah. I'm not going to just kill him when you're not sure if he's even what you think he is."

"I'm not asking you that, Ev,' Dinah stated.

"Then what?"

"I don't want to kill him," Dinah admitted. "I just can't take a chance he's one of them. I'm going over there and confront him. He's going to give me answers. You're my insurance if this go sideways. If they do and it's my life or his, I'm asking you to take him out."

"I don't know, Di,' Ev said, glancing at the gun and then over at Clark's window.

"Tell me now,' Dinah stated. "If you can't do it, say so and I'll go it alone."

Ev saw the determination in Dinah's eyes.

"All right, I'm in, as a last resort, Dinah,' she said.

"Thank you."

* * *

Gotham – Now

"You lied to me, Clark!" Dinah shouted. "Just who the hell are you?"

She felt her emotions nearly get the best of her and had to rein them back in. Dinah took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving him. He seemed confused, but if he was an agent that could just be an act. Dinah had to know for sure.

"What are you talking about, Dinah?' Clark asked, still trying to get his mind around the fact she was here for one and two she had just kicked him half way across his apartment.

"Who are you?" Dinah said in a much calmer voice.

"You know who I am, I'm Clark,' he replied.

"No, who are you really?"

"That is who I am."

Dinah breathed through her nose, her emotions just on the edge. She reached slowly back and took out her pistol and attached the silencer.

"What the hell are you going to do with that?" Clark asked in shock.

"I'm going to get some answers, Clark,' she replied. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice."

Clark stood, the gun leveled at his chest. The shock was almost too much. He thought he knew this woman and was growing to care for her, but this, this was a side he hadn't seen. He knew she was a fugitive, but from his brief experiences with her thought she was a good person. Now he was realizing he didn't really know Dinah at all.

"So what? You're going to shoot me, Dinah?"

"That depends on you,' she replied. "You've been lying to me and I want to know why? Whom do you work for?"

"Derive, you know that,' he said.

"That's your cover, who do you really work for?" Dinah said. "Did Lynch send you?"

"I don't know who that is."

"Liar!"

"No, Dinah, I'm not lying,' Clark flatly stated. "Where is this all coming from?"

"I saw you tonight at the club, Clark. When you dropped in along with Batman."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh, I know you're not just some farm boy arrived in the city,' Dinah continued. "You're a Meta, aren't you?'

Clark had a choice to make. If he told Dinah the whole truth there was a good chance she wouldn't believe him. Besides, he didn't really know her at all he was finding out, so he wasn't about to tell her his whole life story.

"That's what most people would call me, yes,' he offered. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

"So did Lynch do this to you too?" She asked.

"Nobody did this to me, Dinah. I don't know who this Lynch is."

"Then whom do you really work for?"

"I already told you, I work for the Derive, the magazine."

"You're going to stick to that story, huh? How much are they paying you, Clark?"

"Paying me? What are you talking about Dinah?"

"How much are they paying you to get close to me?' She asked. "It's not enough, I assure you."

Clark was starting to wonder if she was crazy. She seemed obsessed with someone named Lynch. The stories he'd found on her said she was a former government agent gone rogue. She'd killed a man on her team before she escaped. Now Clark had to wonder if all of that was true and just how dangerous she was. The gun pointed at his chest told him she was very dangerous, at least right now.

"No one's paying me to get close to you, Dinah,' he said calmly, not wanting to do anything that might make her act. "You're a beautiful woman and I'm attracted to you. Where I come from when you meet someone you're attracted to you ask them out."

"Smallville, right?" Dinah said with scorn. "A real place, but just small enough to be off the grid. Very convenient, Clark, I must say you're story is perfect, but I think that's all it is, a story."

Clark was still new at this, but he was getting tired of people pointing weapons at him and threatening him. He liked Dinah from the first moment he saw her, but they'd only been on one date. He didn't owe her anything and at this moment was really rethinking his attraction to her.

"So what now, Dinah?' He asked. "You're not going to believe whatever I say, so what's the point of all this? If you want to shoot me, shoot me."

"Don't tempted me,' she replied. "I told you, I'm here for answers."

"But you don't believe the ones I give you,' he pointed out.

"I want to believe you, Clark,' Dinah admitted. "I want to believe you're just what you said you are, but your little stunt earlier tells me you're not."

"Batman was there too, Dinah, how come you're not questioning him?' Clark asked. "He made the same leap I did."

"Cause I'm not dating the Batman!" She snapped. Dinah hadn't meant for that to come out and quickly changed the subject. "He used a line to make that leap, Clark, you didn't. A normal man would have been crippled or worse from that fall, but you just kept going. If you're a Meta and didn't admit it, that makes me wonder what else you're not admitting."

"You're a Meta too, aren't you, Dinah?' Clark countered. "I don't remember you sharing that piece of information with me, either."

"We're not talking about me, Clark, we're talking about you,' Dinah fired back.

"Are we?" He asked. "Isn't this all about you and your past? Aren't you seeing me in the prism of that? This Lynch you keep mentioning, he did something to you, didn't he? Is he the one you're running from?"

He was turning the argument around on her and Dinah wasn't going to let that happen.

"Pretty smooth for a farm boy, Clark,' she said. "So now you're going to give me your pitch to return to the agency, is that it? Don't waste your breath."

"I don't know what agency you're talking about," Clark replied. "I'm not what you seem to think I am."

"What are you then?'

That was the question, wasn't it, Clark thought? He'd been wondering that himself. He didn't really have an answer for her or for himself.

"I'm the guy I said I am, Dinah, but something's happening to me,' Clark admitted. "These abilities just started to manifest themselves and they keep getting stronger everyday. You're not the only one that's freaked out about the fall at the club, I am too. I'm not sure why this is happening; I'm just trying to deal with it as it does. I thought maybe I could use them to help some people but that's just gotten guns pointed at me. Believe what you want, Dinah, I'm not what you think I am. I am tired of you pointing that at me, so either use it or put it away."

"Not yet."

"If I was really what you thought I was, why don't I just take it from you?" He asked.

"Cause if you try it will be the last thing you ever do,' she replied. "I have back up, just in case."

She glanced at the window and Clark turned and looked out.

'So this is an ambush,' Clark said. "Well, you're in control, Dinah, what do we do now?"

* * *

Gotham

Selina Kyle in her Catwoman outfit was in a wonderful mood. It had been a perfect night. She'd gotten in, taken what she wanted and gotten out without a hint of trouble. They weren't going to call the cops so she was clear. The diamonds were already sold and probably being cut at that moment. She kept a few for herself of course and along with the rather sizable cash payday, this was a win-win in her book. Even the Batman had kept his nose out of her business for once. While she was still relatively new at this, Selina really saw a future for herself.

She landed silently on the building next to hers and moved over to the edge to make the last jump. She was just about to flick her whip out when something glimmering below her caught her eye. Selina stepped back from the edge quickly; afraid someone was down there waiting for her. It had gone so perfectly, how could anyone know it was her, she wondered? Was it the Batman? No, you're just being paranoia, she told herself. She'd seen the Bat-signal earlier, so there was some other trouble in Gotham to keep him busy tonight.

Moving silently, Selina changed positions and took another look over the edge of the building. It was dark, but her eyesight was very good. It took a moment to pinpoint what she'd seen, but it was there. A woman with a sniper rifle was set up on the fire escape; point it at Selina's building. An assassin, she wondered? She had been flawless earlier, they couldn't have found out it was her, let alone hire someone to kill her this fast, Selina reasoned. So if she wasn't here to kill her, who was she here to kill?

Slipping over the edge, Selina made her way down closer to the shooter. When she was in position, she launched herself at the woman and hit her before she could react. Selina turned the unconscious woman over, but didn't recognize her. A brunette, hair pulled back in a ponytail, attractive, with a sleeve of tattoos on her one arm, but nothing about the young woman helped Selina with who she was. That could wait, first things first. Selina moved to the rifle and looked through the scope. She was surprised at what she saw. The gun was trained on Clark Kent's apartment.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, Mr. Kent,' Selina mused.

As she continued looking, Selina saw another figure in the apartment, a young, blond woman. Now who is she, Selina couldn't help wondering. Was that the girlfriend Clark had mentioned? So which one of them was tattoo girl here to kill? Who the hell are you, Clark, Selina found herself asking again.

Selina concentrated on the blond, trying to figure out who she was. Something about her was familiar. She was pretty, if you like that obvious type, Selina thought. They seemed to be arguing. She must be the high maintenance type, Selina surmised, those blonds like her usually are. Nothing but trouble for you there, farm boy, Selina thought.

Then it hit Selina who the blond was. She'd Black Canary, the fugitive! What the hell was she doing in Clark Kent's apartment? Black Canary was Clark's girlfriend? Selina couldn't believe it. He probably didn't even know that's who she was, the poor sap. He's new in the city and hicks like him always fall for blonds like her. Now because of her he had an assassin aiming at his apartment. I tried to warn him, Selina thought. He's just in over his head and doesn't even know it.

You owe me, Clark; I probably just saved you from becoming collateral damage, Selina thought. He really knows how to pick them, doesn't he? A woman like that is going to get you nothing but trouble, farm boy.


	12. Chapter 12

Stand up

Gotham

Have you ever been in a situation where you were pretty sure you didn't have all the necessary information? It throws you, no two ways about it. It's like trying to play a game, but only knowing half the rules. The best thing would probably be to just walk away. Unfortunately, that isn't always an option. Sometimes you just have to try and muddle through, doing your best and hope things work out.

That was the situation Clark found himself in.

Dinah Lance, the woman he'd dated a grand total of one time was currently in his apartment holding a gun on him. He was realizing he really didn't know very much about her at all. You would have thought her being a fugitive would have given him pause, but he was young and she was very beautiful. Like most guys, he didn't always think everything through when it came to a beautiful woman. Also like most guys, he was learning that could cost him. In his particular case, it might just cost him his life.

Several options presented themselves, none of which were guaranteed to be successful. So again he was faced with a choice. If he was going to get shot and probably killed, how did he want to go out? In the long run it really didn't matter, once you're dead, you're dead, but in the short, immediate momentary term it seemed very important. Did he want to die on his knees or on his feet?

_(A side note – me, personally, on my knees and most likely begging big time for my life, but that's just me. There definitely be crying, probably snot would be involved, it wouldn't be pretty.)_

Clark remained on his feet.

He didn't know Dinah that well, maybe not really at all, but he felt like he'd seen glimpses of who she really was underneath this dangerous exterior. Their day at the ballpark hadn't touched on intimate details, but just by talking to her he felt he knew a little bit about her. It wasn't just that she was incomparably beautiful that made her so attractive. She seemed haunted by her past and whatever it was she'd done. That was the part of her, that person that still cared despite the horrible things she's seen that had attracted him in the first place. That was the young woman that risked her own life to save others. If he were going to die tonight, it would be trying to talk to that Dinah, not the one waving the gun around.

"You checked my story out, didn't you, Dinah?' Clark asked. "You know I'm who I said I am."

"Back stories came be fabricated, Clark,' she replied. "If you're good enough, you can even get the details right. The only problem is simple farm boys from nowhere don't do the things I saw you do tonight."

"This one does." He stated. "For the record, I never said I was a simple farm boy. I grew up on a farm, yes, but that was never all there was to me."

"So I see,' Dinah replied. "So we're back to who are you and who do you really work for? What mission did they send you to Gotham to do?"

"You're not going to believe anything I say."

"Humor me."

"No."

"You're forcing me to make a choice I don't want make, Clark,' she warned.

"I'm not doing anything, Dinah,' he said. "In fact I'm starting to wonder if this is all really about me to begin with."

"It is,' she said flatly.

"No, I think it's about you,' he countered. "I don't know what you were involved in or why you ran away from it, but it's still with you, isn't it? It colors how you see everything, even me."

"Don't try and turn this around, Clark,' she said.

"If I'm going to die, I at least want to know why, Dinah,' he replied. "I asked you on a date, that's all. You accepted, remember? Everything that's happened between us has been on your terms, not mine. I don't even know where you live, but you've obviously done your homework on me."

"Someone in my position can't be too careful." She said to justify her actions, both to him and to herself.

"I don't know what that position is,' he said. "I'm not part of whatever world you were involved in. I met you by chance that first night I arrived on the bus, Dinah."

"I don't believe in chance, Clark,' Dinah replied.

"I do,' he said. "I had two job offers after graduation, one in Metropolis working for the Daily Planet and one in Gotham working for Derive. My first instinct was to take the Planet job, but this one offered a little bit more money. It was a flip of a coin, really. If I'd taken the other job I'd been in Metropolis now and who knows who I'd have met and what I'd be doing? I came to Gotham instead and the first night I was here I met you on the walk to this apartment. How could I have known you were going to chase those bank robbers or even be on that street at that time or even that night? Tell me how that's not chance?"

Dinah wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to believe him, but every experience she'd had told her not to. He was asking her to trust him again. So many people she trusted, even the man she thought she was in love with, had burned her. It was so hard to take that chance again. The alternative was the gun in her right hand. She could end this here and now, play it safe and move on. Her former bosses would tell her that was the smart play. Eliminate the possible threats before they become real threats.

But Dinah had to wonder what that would get her?

She'd run from that life because she didn't want to end up like them. If she killed Clark now, how would she be any different? The things she told herself she believed in like honor, loyalty, trust and justice, those would just be words if she pulled the trigger. In a way he was right, this wasn't about him at all. It was about who Dinah was going to be. Was she just the weapon Lynch had tried to make her into, or was she still someone that knew right from wrong and valued the difference?

Dinah knew she wasn't going to answer these questions here, in this room with him. She uncocked the gun.

"We'll talk about this another time, Clark,' she said.

"No, I don't think we will, Dinah,' he replied.

"Excuse me?'

Clark knew he was pushing things. He should be happy with her deciding not to shoot him, but he wasn't. It was better to end it now, then go on like this.

"You don't trust me, Dinah and frankly, I don't trust you anymore, either,' he stated. "I won't live like that, never knowing if something is going to set you off and I'll find another gun in my face. If we can't trust each other, then there's no point in any of this. Maybe we both should just walk away."

Dinah was stunned. She'd been so wrapped up in her fears and worries; she hadn't considered all of this from his point of view. If he was who he said he was then she could only imagine how this must seem. She still wasn't convinced he wasn't an agent sent to get her, but she wanted to believe him when he said he wasn't. It seemed she'd ruined things even before they began.

"If that's what you want,' she quietly said.

"I think it has to be," he replied. 'You're haunted by a past that I know nothing about. You won't tell me what it is and I can't make you. There's no future in that for either of us. I'm sorry it has to be like this, but I don't see an alternative."

"So one date and that's it,' Dinah sadly said. "I think that's a record even for me."

"You have a gun in your hand and you're threatening to kill me, what did you think was going to happen?" He asked.

"I thought I was going to get some answers, the truth,' she replied. "It seems I got some of it."

She slipped the gun back into the hostler and smoothed her jacket down. She moved towards the door, but stopped before she got to it. Dinah turned back to look at Clark.

"I find myself hoping you are telling me the truth, Clark,' she said softly. "If that's the case, I'm sorry for all of this. Maybe it's better this way."

He saw the vulnerability in her eyes and the feelings he had when he first met her came back. He wasn't forgetting she'd threatened to kill him, but he also knew there was so much more going on than he knew about.

"I think you're fundamentally a good person, Dinah,' he offered. "You seem haunted by a past I don't know anything about, though. If it made you come here tonight with a gun, then it's a dangerous and deadly world that you were probably better off getting away from. You did that physically, but I don't think you have mentally, at least not yet. I'm not an expert, but I think you have to move past it before you can move on. I'm sorry thing have worked out this way. I am attracted to you and would have liked to get to know you better, but I can do it like this. Not like this, Dinah."

She nodded, the sadness clear in her eyes and whole demeanor.

"I hope I don't regret this decision, Clark, but I think I already am."

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Dinah was immediately on guard. She glanced at Clark and the fire had return to her eyes. Now it was Dinah's turn to think this was a set up. A voice came from the other side of the door.

"Hey, neighbor, I know it's late but I saw your light on. Come on, open the door if you're decent."

Selina.

"Who is that?' Dinah whispered.

"It's a neighbor,' Clark replied. "I should open it."

Dinah took a step back; her right had instinctively reaching back for her gun. She gestured for him to go ahead, but she made sure he was between her and whoever was on the other side of the door. She was ready for anything. Clark sighed and moved over to open the door. When he did, he saw Selina standing in the frame smiling. She had changed out of her work clothes into a pair of yoga shorts and a blouse. Only three of the seven buttons were done.

After spotting and taking out the assassin across the way, Selina just couldn't let it go without finding out more of what was going on. She left tattoo girl on the fire escape but took the clip to her rifle along with any spares she had. In her mind, something dangerous was going down and Selina loved being in the center of anything dangerous.

"Burning the midnight oil, farm boy,' Selina began but then glanced at Dinah. "Oh, well, well, well, what do we have here? A woman in your room this late at night, Clark, what would they say back home? You're catching on to the big city really fast, aren't you?'

"Selina, this is Dinah,' Clark offered. "Dinah, this is …"

"Selina Kyle.' Dinah cut him off. "What is Selina Kyle doing here, Clark?"

"You know each other?" He said in surprise.

"No." They both replied.

"Answer the question, Clark, what is Selina Kyle doing here?' Dinah demanded.

"She's a neighbor. She lives in the building,' he offered.

"You live in the same building as Selina Kyle?' Dinah repeated. The skepticism was plain in her voice.

"Yes why?" He said.

"Yeah, why, Dinah?' Selina added, the smile on her lips getting much bigger. She leaned against the door frame and waited for Dinah's answer.

"She's a criminal, Clark! Are you really going to just stand there and tell me you don't know she's …"

"Uah, uah, uah,' Selina interrupted. "Let's not start throwing stones, shall we, Miss Lance. If the police burst into this building right now it's not me that would have to run, is it? Did your girlfriend happen to mention she's a wanted fugitive from the authorities, Clark?"

"Um, well, ah,' Clark stammered. Frankly he was lost on what was going on.

"I didn't think so,' Selina said, not waiting for him to answer. "This one's all kinds of trouble you don't need, farm boy. You don't want to get mixed up with a known criminal, do you Clark?"

"You've got a lot of fucking nerve,' Dinah spat out. She took a step towards Selina, who didn't back up, but lifted her cell phone.

"You know I usually don't like to have any dealings with the authorities, but I might just make an exception in this case, honey."

Selina licked her lips slowly, enjoying this role reversal. That Dinah was plainly livid only added to it.

"That won't be necessary, Selina, Dinah was just leaving,' Clark offered.

"Fine, this is a good building, we don't need her element around,' Selina replied. She took a step to the side, still leaning against the door frame, so Dinah could leave.

For Dinah's part she wasn't sure what to think. Selina Kyle, the Catwoman lived in the same building, that couldn't be a coincidence, yet Clark seemed to have no clue who she was. Could he really be that naïve, she wondered? If he didn't know Selina Kyle was the Catwoman did that mean the rest of his story was just what he said? Was he just a young guy from a farm that was developing Meta abilities? Or was this some weird elaborate game he was playing. Was Selina involved with Lynch? No, Dinah dismissed that right away. The government would never recruit someone like her; she was too unpredictable, too unreliable to trust. What the hell was Clark doing living in the same building as Selina Kyle?

Dinah hadn't moved, so Selina pushed herself off the door frame and slowly walked over to her. Clark was nervous, but wasn't sure whether he should get between the two of them. That seemed like the wrong place to ever be.

Selina stopped right in front of Dinah. The smile on her face had only grown with each step. Slowly she raised her hand and showed Dinah the rifle's clip. Leaning in and whispering so only Dinah could hear, Selina said, "I took this off an assassin aiming into this apartment, honey. I'm guessing she was aiming at you. I didn't see anyone else, but you'd be better informed about these things than I would. Don't they usually have a backup team or something? You might want to get out while the getting is good. Just some free advice from someone not wanted by everyone in law enforcement."

Selina pressed the clip into Dinah's left hand and then headed back out the door. Dinah turned and glanced out the window. Ev, what the hell had Selina done to Ev, she wondered? Dinah turned and glared at Selina, then looked at Clark as if to say what the hell, Clark? Ev had to be her first priority, so Dinah ran out the door and headed for the stairs.

"Bye.' Selina called out, giving Dinah's retreating form a little wave. Once she disappeared, Selina turned to Clark.

"You owe me, farm boy."

She gave him a playful tap on his chin and then headed back up the stairs to her apartment.

Clark stood in the doorway of his apartment, alternating between looking down the stairs where Dinah had disappeared and up the stairs where Selina was heading. What the hell just happened, he thought? He ran his fingers through his hair, the confusion obvious on his face.

* * *

Gotham – Dérive offices

It was 11 in the morning the next day. A mountain of work covered Clark's desk. His personal life seemed in a shambles, with too many questions and not enough answers. It was over, almost before it began with Dinah. It was the right thing, but he still had regrets. Clark had some experience with women, not a lot, but some. In high school and college he'd gone out of dates, but only seriously pursued one woman, Lana. That had ended when they went off to different colleges, as a long distance romance never seemed to work. They were still friends, but both had moved on.

Coming to Gotham had seemed like a transition in his life, the next step into adulthood. He thought he understood what to expect, but like most of us he was finding out you never really know until it happens. Living has a way of changing even the best-laid plans. These new abilities that were manifesting themselves certainly added an unforeseen variable to the equation. So far they had been both a blessing and a curse.

It felt as if the world he knew wasn't the only world. Within the large whole there were so many others that he had no knowledge of. What Clark was finding out was that those separate worlds sometimes overlap when the individuals in them come in contact. Dinah was a perfect example of that. The world she seemed to have been living in was as foreign to Clark as a man flying would be. Her world was something out of suspense novels and thriller movies, spies and terrorists, black ops and covert operations. It was a shadow world that most people never come into contact with.

His problem wasn't that he was naïve or stupid, it was simple ignorance. The smartest man in the world would have difficulty reading a book in a language he'd never seen before. If you have no frame of reference, no understanding of the keys underlying the structure, just recognizing the words doesn't help.

Gotham, the city itself was like that too. His walks around town had familiarized him with the landscape, but the more he learned about the city the more he realized how much remained below the surface. His brief encounter with Batman was a prime example. Clark had seen the Bat-signal just like everyone in the city, but was just beginning to understand it's meaning. It was on top of police headquarters. That meant the authorities had given their sanctioned support to someone that in any other town would be called a vigilante. What could make a city and its public officials take that extraordinary step, he wondered?

In between his work on the various stories for the magazine, Clark had been reading the history of the city. What he discovered was that corruption had a long and deep place in its annals. It seemed to have gotten into every layer and structure, embedding itself so deep most never believed it could be rooted out. Crime and violence had become a way of life in Gotham. It had lead to the police commissioner taking the unprecedented step of sanctioning the Batman.

Clark realized he was hip deep in a world he was just barely beginning to comprehend. He couldn't help wondering if that just added another layer to Dinah's issues? No, he told himself, it was over between them even before anything really began. She didn't trust him enough to just as ask him; she'd come with a gun. Whatever world he was in, he couldn't live like that. He still wondered about the possibilities that might have been between them, but it looked like that's what they would remain, just possibilities, never explored.

There was also the question of Selina Kyle. Her confrontation with Dinah raised so many questions. They said they didn't know each other, but they certainly seemed to know of each other. Clark felt a little guilty looking into Selina, but he still did it. Officially there wasn't anything on her. There were suspicions, but no arrests. Her juvenile records were sealed, which was fair since what she did as a child shouldn't count against her as an adult.

Officially there was nothing on her, but in the blogosphere she was quite the topic of conversation. There were a lot of rumors, but little facts. The name Catwoman registered in Clark's mind for the first time. A jewel thief, Selina, he wondered? There were also rumors of her being connected to the Batman. Clark was confused, from everything he'd read about the Batman he was the criminal's worst nightmare, so why would there be a connection between Selina and him? Picturing her in his mind, Clark was immediately able had the answer to his own question.

It seemed he was involved in more overlapping worlds than he realized. There was so much he didn't know or understand about the world around him. He was trying to catch up, but at every turn it seemed fifty new doors opened. He sat back, rubbing his burning eyes and had to wonder if he'd ever understand all of this. He'd been wearing the glasses pretty much all the time recently. They helped a little with the burning sensations in his eyes, but he had to wonder if this wasn't some other aspect of his developing abilities. He could go to an eye doctor and have them checked out. An exam, especially if it included x-rays would reveal things about him he didn't want anyone else to know about.

* * *

The door to his small office opened and one of the owners, Joshua Canfield, stepped in.

"So how's it going, Clark?"

"Good, Mr. Canfield,' Clark immediately replied.

"It's Josh, remember?"

"Right.'

"I just stopped by to tell you I've been looking over some of your work so far and it's good,' Josh said. "I really like the way you're able to take all those different sources and bits of information and synthesis them down to a coherent read."

"Thanks, um, Josh,' Clark replied. It was always nice hearing praise from your boss and Clark was no different. "It's interesting work."

"Keep it up, Clark,' Josh said. "The other thing I'm here about is I have another assignment for you. What we like to do here at Dérive is keep everyone in the loop. We want each member of the team to feel like they're growing with us, so in that vein, I want you to do a story about a short film at the Gotham film festival that's starting in a couple of days."

"A story, what like a review?' Clark asked.

"Yes, something like that,' Josh confirmed. "It's just a short film, but we're having everyone working here covering something at the festival. Dérive isn't just about politics; it's culture, music and society at large. The Wayne Foundation is sponsoring this two-week film festival and it's one of the larger ones in the country. It's probably Wayne's way of justifying how his ancestors made all their money. You know the say, Clark, show me a great fortune and I'll show you a great crime at the center of it."

"The Wayne's are criminals?"

Clark had never really heard of them before. He saw the name on so many things around Gotham, but he'd never really thought about the people behind it.

"No,' Josh laughed. "Are you saying you've never heard of Bruce Wayne? Really, Clark? He's the sole heir to one of the largest fortunes in the country and probably one of the richest men in the world, you've never heard of him?"

"I'm still new in Gotham,' Clark lamely offered. "I've been busy."

"The billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne and you've never heard of him?" Josh said it like the idea was completely foreign to him. "You must have seen the Wayne name smeared over half the town, haven't you?"

"Yeah,' Clark admitted.

"It's a good thing we didn't put you in the entertainment section, Clark." Josh laughed. "Bruce Wayne is always in the gossip columns. He's dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. He's even dated Vicki Vale, lucky bastard. You live in Gotham now, Clark, you should get to know the people in it."

"Yeah, I probably should,' Clark admitted.

"Anyway, here's the name of the short film and the night it's playing,' Josh said, handing Clark a slip of paper. "It's not going to be a big deal, but you will get your first byline in the magazine with a review. Everyone working here is going to be in on this, so just have some fun. Take a date if you can find one, Clark."

"Thanks, Josh, I appreciate it."

"Keep up the good work, Clark."

Josh smiled and then left. Clark glanced down at the slip of paper. He hadn't seen a movie in awhile, so maybe it would be something interesting. He'd finally get his name in print, so that was something. Memorizing the date and time, Clark set the slip of paper to the side and got back to work. Reports were still coming in and he needed to put them together for tomorrow night's podcast.

* * *

It was after lunch and Clark was deep into a story about tensions in Kashmir when there was a knock on his door. He looked up to find Vicki Vale standing there.

"Hi."

"Um, hi,' he replied.

"You're Kent aren't you, Clark right?" She said as she moved towards him. He quickly stood up.

"Yes."

"I'm Vicki Vale."

"I know, nice to meet you Miss Vale."

"Please, call me Vicki, Clark."

"Okay."

She offered her hand and he shook it.

"You're in research, aren't you, Clark?" She began. "I mean I've noticed that some of the stories I've been reporting seem to pass through this department. I asked about a few and was told you put them together."

"That's part of what I do, yeah,' Clark replied. He was a little nervous, as she was rather famous, even outside of Gotham. Josh's comment about how Bruce Wayne had dated her came back to Clark. Looking at her this close, he had to admit Wayne was a lucky bastard. She was gorgeous, by any standard.

"I'd like you to do some research for me, Clark,' Vicki said.

"If I can, sure,' he replied.

She pulled out a photo and handed it to him. Clark felt his breath sputter as he looked at it.

"You've heard of the Iceberg Lounge, haven't you, Clark?' She asked.

"Um, yeah,' he managed to replied.

"That's from last night,' she said, indicating the photo. "Batman was there, but I'm more interested in the other guy, the one in the photo. Superman, some are calling him."

It was a picture of Clark as he landed on the floor after falling through the glass ceiling. He still had his ball cap on, so you could see his face, but it was definitely him.

"They're-They're calling him what?" He asked.

"Superman, you know, because of the S on his chest,' Vicki replied.

"Oh, yeah, right."

"He's the story, Clark,' Vicki said. "I want you to find everything you can on him for me."

"I don't know,' Clark started to say, but Vicki cut him off.

"I know there's probably not a lot on him, yet, but I've got a hunch about this one. Some of the videos from last night are already showing up online, so I want you get everything that's out there, even rumors about him and send it to me. Please?"

Vicki leaned over the desk, closing the gap between her and Clark.

"I'll owe you if you do this for me, Clark."

"O-Okay,' he found himself saying.

"Thanks, I'll expected everything later today, thanks again, Clark,' Vicki said with a smile and then exited his tiny office.

Clark slumped back into his chair.

"Great, I'm investigating myself," he lamented.


	13. Chapter 13

Reflections in the Mirror

**Occam's razor** states the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.

Shortly after President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, in November 1963, a Gallup poll found that 52 percent of the American public believed that the assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, was part of a conspiracy. In the 50 years since, that figure has climbed closer to 80 percent.

You can understand why. It's painful to accept that an American president was gunned down by one small, half-crazy guy with a mail-order rifle who could easily have been stopped in any of a dozen different small ways, but wasn't.

The enormity of the crime didn't fit the insignificance of the criminal. It is far easier to imagine Oswald as a "pawn" of a much larger scheme, engineered by invisible but all-powerful forces.

There's something deeply comforting about a conspiracy. It is gratifying to think everything means something, everything adds up, everything is under the control of some grand human design. We like to think that things happen for a reason, and that large things happen for large reasons.

Someone once wrote it far better than I, when they said, "The tragedy of the assassination was in its terrible randomness."

Life is randomness and chance.

The problem with believing in conspiracies is that they begin to color how you see not just one event, but soon all events. It's an inexorable chain that once you accept that A caused B eventually you are only too willing to accept that X caused Y and Z.

This is partly a product of hindsight, where you can look back and see all the steps leading up to the event. Using Oswald for an example.

Would Oswald have shot any politician who passed under his window? Would he have traveled across town to shoot Kennedy if Kennedy hadn't presented himself, in a slow-moving open-topped limousine, some 88 yards from the Texas Schoolbook Depository? What if the FBI hadn't closed its investigation of Oswald, who changed his mind about defecting to the Soviet Union and returned to the U.S. in 1962, once they'd realized he wasn't a Moscow-directed threat to national security? What if they hadn't investigated Oswald at all? What if his estranged wife, Marina had agreed to his repeated pleas that she and their children move back in with him? What if it hadn't been so easy to buy guns? What if the Secret Service had argued against JFK's request to take down the protective bubble top of his limo on that nice sunny day?

In hindsight these all seem like obvious mistakes. They almost seem to form a pattern, as if some invisible hand was manipulating things behind the curtain. It feeds into that need to make sense out of tragedy. It pushes away that drifting, anchorless feeling of randomness and chance and seems to restore some kind of order in the world. It gives everyone back the illusion that life had a defined purpose and isn't just made up as you go.

Other examples of this are all around us. 911 has spawned a new industry of conspiracies. Again in hindsight it seems so unimaginable that so many warning signs and red flags could be missed, that something else must be at work. 19 men had a plan to get on 3 planes and crashing them. They could have been stopped at countless points along the way. They weren't. If the previous example tells us anything, in 50 years a majority will believe it was all just part of a larger conspiracy.

Gotham

Dinah Lance had spent most of her young adult life in a world of shadows. She hadn't set out to be immersed in the morally ambiguous shadow world of spies, secret agencies and deception, but that's where she ended up. Her once perhaps naïve view that the world was made up of good guys and bad guys and that she was on the side of the good ones had been worn away. It left her with a view of the world where nothing was as it seemed and invisible forces manipulated everything.

Perhaps some of this was even true. Those she trusted most had manipulated her. She had seen unspeakable things being done by the so-called 'good guys' that often rivaled those of the 'bad guys.' Dinah knew there were still bad guys out there, twisted, cruel, evil people that needed to be stopped. She just wasn't sure anymore who were the good guys to stop them. She wasn't sure she could tell the good guys from the bad guys anymore.

Dinah's world had been colored by her time in the shadows. She found herself questioning everyone and everything. It was the view of the conspiracy, where nothing is what it seems to be and part of something larger. There were people out to kill her or arrested her, that was true, but living in the shadow world had caused her to see everyone as a possible threat. It made her question chance meetings and look for connections where none seemed present.

These instincts had kept her alive, but they had stopped her from living. From the very start she had doubts about Clark Kent. He seemed to be exactly what he said he was but that didn't fit into how she saw the world. Her attraction to him only deepened these worries. He couldn't be just who he said he was, he had to be something else according to the way she saw the world.

Finding out he had abilities that seemed to be Meta in origin looked as if to confirm her suspicions. A caused B so X must have caused Y and Z. The conspiracy was there if you wanted to see it. The obstacle to this was that when Dinah had looked into his eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him. It brought into conflict the part of her that wanted to start living again with the part of her that had kept her alive. It made Dinah wonder if just maybe A was true and B was true, but they weren't connected and perhaps had nothing to do with X.

This is the point where conspiracies flounder. They try and fit all the pieces into a puzzle, yet always some remain that just don't fit. The unified theory can't account for everything and once you admit chance and randomness into the mix you begin to question the other pieces. Her mind rebelled against this counterargument. A struggle began within her about what sort of life she was going to have going forward?

Some nobody with a mail order gun shouldn't be able to kill the president. 19 guys with box cutters shouldn't be able to take over 3 planes and crash them. Despite what 80 percent might believe, you always come back to **Occam's razor.** The simplest explanation is usually the correct one. Some nobody with a mail order gun killed the president. 19 guys with box cutters took over 3 planes and crashed them.

Dinah's mind was still trying to make it all fit, except the pieces weren't cooperating.

"Did you know that Selina Kyle lived in the same building as Clark?" Dinah asked Ev.

"Yeah, I saw the name,' Ev replied, rubbing her head and wincing. "I didn't see any connection. Besides, you asked me to check the building for connections to your past. She doesn't have any. You were also mostly interested in the men as I remember. It turns out one in particular, Clark."

"You didn't think Catwoman living in the same building was worth mentioning?"

"No," Ev admitted. "The same way I didn't think it was important that three prostitutes live in the building or the guy one floor below Clark sleeps with a blow up doll he calls Nancy. It's a shitty building in a shitty neighborhood; you're going to get all sorts of freaks and shady characters living there. She was frankly one of the normal ones."

"You still should have told me,' Dinah said. "I can't figure this out if I don't have all the pieces."

"The pieces to what, Dinah?" Ev asked.

"What's going on and whose behind it."

"And what if nothing's going on and no one's behind it?"

Dinah didn't have an answer for that. As hard as she tried, she couldn't make the pieces fit.

* * *

Gotham – Derive Magazine

The misgivings Clark had about what Vicki Vale was asking for had eased somewhat when remembering he wasn't a reporter, he was basically a compiler. He just looked through everything and assembled the pertinent information. That it was on him was still a bit weird, but as he looked through the videos and reports something amazing happened. Clark got to see how others perceived him.

All of us see the world from inside out. When we look in the mirror at home, it's under soft lighting and influenced by how we already see ourselves. Occasionally you get a glimpse of a different view. Picture yourself in a dark nightclub and some time during the night you go to the restroom. As you're walking in, the harsh fluorescent light are jarring to you and if in that moment you glance in the mirror you see a different you looking back. You quickly adjust, but in that brief moment you might be seeing yourself the way others see you.

Because we corporeal beings we inhabit bodies we can't get out of and see ourselves from a different vantage point. Try and remember the first time you heard your voice on a recording. You knew it was you, but it didn't sound like the you, you know. The more it happens the easier it is to accept, but there is always a bit of that strangeness to it.

By investigating himself, Clark was seeing through other people's eyes. The chase that ended in the Iceberg Lounge had been frantic and heart pounding but as he watched the cell phone videos of his fall through the glass ceiling he got the first real inkling of how it must look to someone else. The drop had seemed long while doing it, but watching the video, it seemed impossible for someone to be able to live through, yet along run away from. The stray comments from the crowd the videos picked up of shock, awe and fear rattled him. He realized how different people were seeing him. They didn't see a man, but something else, a super man if you will.

The few news stories he found also cast him in an unfamiliar light. The eyewitness descriptions of him varied wildly, as did the speculation on who he was. They were mostly negative, characterizing him as some sort of menacing giant and worried about what new mayhem he was bringing to Gotham. The S on his chest seemed to be the one thing everyone could agree on in his or her descriptions.

Clark began to see and maybe understand that in Gotham, the citizens were so used to seeing everything as a threat. Living with crime and violence had become a way of life for them, so anything new was immediately seen through that lens. It showed up in Gotham's most famous hero, the man that had chased Clark, the Batman. He was mysterious, a creature of the shadows and darkness, inspiring fear in those he challenged. He fought on the side of justice, yet ordinary citizens were just as afraid of him as the criminals.

It all made Clark wonder if he was going to continue using his abilities and he'd already decided he was, how did he want ordinary people to see him? Fear just seemed to create more fear. If you want to help change things, there had to be another way, he thought. Perhaps he could make a bigger impact by offering an alternative to fear.

He hadn't worked it all out yet, but Clark knew he was on to something. He sat back, rubbing his burning eyes and then hit send to transfer what he'd found to Vicki Vale's computer. Hopefully that would be the end of it. She would read and watch the limited material and move on to something else.

* * *

Belle Reve Penitentiary

Deadshot was escorting to the warden's office. He was serving a life sentence, but the prison had a rather unusual program that allowed certain inmates to work off their time and gain early release. It went by several names, but he just thought of it as the Suicide Squad. It was all very off the books, total deniability for those in charge, but it was the one chance of getting out that seemed most viable. Escaping Belle Reve just wasn't something that happened. Even if you did somehow managed to get out, the Squad would track you down. They didn't arrest you, they terminated you.

He entered the warden's office and saw the surprisingly young woman sitting behind the desk. He had no illusions about her. She was cold as ice and smarter than anyone he'd ever known. He moved over and took the seat opposite her. She looked up from her paperwork.

"You can leave now, I'll call you in a minute,' she said to the guards.

Once they were gone, Deadshot relaxed.

"So another mission for the Squad, warden?" He asked.

"No."

"Then why am I here?"

"You're here because your country wants you to use your special talents for them,' she explained. "You'll even be handsomely rewarded for it."

"You want me to kill someone?"

"I don't,' she replied. "This comes from higher up."

"Why me? The government must have their own killers,' he asked.

"They do,' she said flatly. "They picked you because if you're caught it won't lead back to them. You're already known as a contract killer. It will just be assumed you escaped and returned to your old profession."

"Nobody escapes Belle Reve, warden,' he joked.

"You know that and I know that, but the general public will believe what they tell them."

"You said something about paying me? More promises for an early release?"

"No, straight cash, your usual fee."

"They must want someone dead pretty bad.'

"They do."

"What if I say no, I'm not interested? Can I refuse?" He asked.

"Yes, you can, but you don't want to do that, Deadshot,' the warden replied. "I used to work with these people and you don't want to be on the wrong side of them."

"Tell me about the money."

"It will be transferred to your offshore account as soon as the job is done,' she replied. "It will be waiting for you when you get out."

"Where's the target at?"

"Gotham."

"Great, just the place I want to go."

"That's right, Batman's the reason you're in here, isn't he?" The warden said with a cold smile. "You might want to try and avoid him this time."

"Easier said than done,' Deadshot replied. "Who's the target?"

The warden slid a folder across her desk to Deadshot. He opened it to see a picture of a beautiful young woman.

"Quite the looker,' he commented.

"Don't let her looks deceive you, she's as dangerous as they come,' the warden replied. "I know personally how dangerous she is."

Deadshot looked over the information and then sat back.

"So when do I get out to kill Dinah Lance, Waller?"

Amanda Waller sat forward, looking Deadshot in the eye. She had become the warden at Belle Reve after leaving Team 7.

"Tonight."

"Anything else?"

"Don't underestimate Lance,' Waller warned. She flicked a switch on her desk and the guards came back in. "Take Deadshot back to his cell."

After they left she picked up her phone and dialed. A man answered.

"It's done, Lynch, but I still don't like it. Dinah was one of us."

"_Was_ is the important word, Amanda,' Lynch replied. "She went rogue. She knows too much and is too dangerous to just let her go."

"I still don't like it,' Amanda said.

"You don't have to like it, Amanda. Don't ruin a promising career by getting sentimental for your old teammates.' Lynch warned. "Just have Deadshot in Gotham tonight."

The line went dead.

* * *

Gotham

At a distance it appeared to be one point of light in the otherwise complete darkness. As you moved closer the one point became several points, computer screens with different information appearing on each of them. A lone figure, dress in a black outfit was taking it all in. It seemed Clark wasn't the only one digging up all the information on the man being called Superman.

He had the Batman's attention as well.

"Who are you?"


	14. Chapter 14

Response

Gotham – East End

The gaudy lights and garish, illicit advertisements faded with the rising sun. What seemed like a wild and dangerous place turned into a neighborhood once again. The shop owners, small markets, lunch counters, dry cleaners, hair salons and vendors of all other types reclaimed the neighborhood if only in the daylight. Families with children appeared on the street, going about the daily business of living.

Selina was up early today. Normally she preferred to sleep in, but she wanted to get the bank early. Selina didn't like leaving cash around her apartment, too many thieves out there, so a bank was relatively safer. She sat at one of the tables in front of a family run bakery having a cappuccino and fresh blueberry muffin. An iPad sat on the tabletop, but that was mostly to discourage any unwanted attention. There were a few files on it that she was interested in. She had 'picked it up' during her last job and it had some surprising details about Falcone's finances. More specifically where he kept most of his money. That sort of information could come in handy, she thought.

As she looked around at the 'day' people, she couldn't help being reminded this wasn't the public she usually saw in Gotham. Growing up how she didn't the 'straights' weren't part of her life. Everyone she knew was working an angle, either being taking advantage of or taking advantage. It wasn't a matter of the Haves versus the Have-nots. No one was a Have really, as she looked back. They were all just Have-nots; some just had even less or nothing.

These people, the 'straights' were the people you didn't hear about on the news. They lived their lives, working, trying to scratch out a living to take care of their families. Growing up Selina had been taught to laugh at them, as suckers that played by the rules. What did it get them, really, she always wondered? Watching them now going about their daily lives she wasn't laughing anymore. While she lived in the same place, her worldview had changed. As she watched families going about their daily business she couldn't help wondering if the people that taught her to laugh weren't the real suckers.

She had no desire to become one of the 'straights', but she did sort of see the appeal now. It was the reason in her new career; she never stole from those that couldn't afford it. This iPad meant nothing to Falcone. He probably had ten of them, all stolen of course. To these people an iPad meant something. They probably had to save up to get it, so their kid might have a bit of an edge in school. While Selina might not play by all the rules, she did have some. Not creating more victims was one of her main ones.

She did what she did because she'd grown up wanting things she was told she could have. Being a burglar was a way of making a living, but it was also for the excitement, risk, fun and danger. Her targets were people that could afford to loss a little, not everything. Stealing from those it would hurt the most seemed sad and pitiful. Selina hadn't fought to escape the users just to become one herself. Call it honor among thieves or whatever you wanted, some lines she would never cross.

* * *

Gotham – Iceberg Lounge

Oswald Cobblepot aka The Penguin was not a happy man. He sat deep in his plush chair just staring up at the repairmen working on the glass ceiling. His club was closed due to the damage, clean up and repairs. Every minute the doors weren't open was costing him money. They should be open by tonight, but that didn't solve his problem.

While he thought of himself primarily as a businessman, Oswald also liked to think of himself as a dangerous man. When you swim with the sharks as he did, you had to be dangerous. Any sign of weakness and they turned on you. While he straddled the line both as legit and illegal, his basic understanding of the world came from the illegal side. It was the code of respect that mattered to that kind of people. This 'Superman' as they were starting to call him had disrespected him. Oswald couldn't let that go or he would been seen as weak. If he was seen as weak and the sharks would be out for blood.

He did the figures in his head and roughly thought he was losing 30 thousand each day he was closed. Someone was going to pay for that and that someone was this so-called 'Superman.'

Oswald snapped his fingers and several of his flunkies came rushing over.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Get the word out,' Oswald said. "There's a bounty on this 'Superman.' Whoever brings his body to me or just his head, I don't care, they get the money."

"How much, boss?"

30 thousand a day, three days, Oswald thought.

"100 grand on delivering."

* * *

Gotham Outskirts

The private airfield sat well off the road. If you didn't know it was there you'd miss it. A single Gulf Stream glided in and landed, taxing over to the large hanger. When it stopped the door opened and Deadshot climbed off. The door immediately closed and the plane was already taxing for take off. A single man in a black suit stepped out from the hanger. He held up a set of keys and then tossed them to Deadshot.

"Everything you need is in the car,' the man said.

Headlights came on. A black car pulled up and the man got in. It drove away leaving Deadshot alone. He slowly walked into the hanger to find another nondescript black car sitting in the shadows. He moved over and unlocked the door. He reached in and popped the trunk. A smile crossed his face as he examined the contents. Guns, lots of guns packed the trunk. A folder sat on top of them. It contained pictures of his target and the latest information they had on her. He thought he was going to like working for the government. Slamming the lid closed, Deadshot climbed in and started the motor. He was out of the hanger and on the highway heading for Gotham. The whole thing had taken less than 5 minutes.

* * *

Gotham – East End

The sun slipped behind the tall buildings and darkness reclaimed the city. Another long day at the magazine and Clark was tired. His eyes were burning even worse than they had before. All he wanted to do was get to his apartment and climb into bed. It seemed fate had other plans for him. As he rounded the corner to his block he saw Carl and Wayne, the same two guys that had hassled Melinda. They were also the same two he'd followed and inadvertently got himself involved in some sort of gang war. They shoved someone into a van and then took off. Clark got a glimpse of the person they'd abducted it was Melinda. He started running.

He was new at this, so he had to stop at his apartment first to change. After a few frantic minutes he was out running over the rooftops, looking for the van. He was sure he'd lost it, cursing himself for being such an amateur when he saw just the taillights turn into the warehouse district. They had slowed considerably and he quickly caught up with them. He was just about to leap off the building onto the van when it pulled into a warehouse and the doors closed behind it.

Clark knew whatever Carl and Wayne had in mind; it wasn't going to be pleasant for Melinda. He wasn't going to allow that to happen. He made the leap to the warehouse's roof and then found a small window to climb through. He saw them, just standing near a large shipping container waiting. Melinda was crumbled up in the fetal position on the ground. Clark's temper flared as he kicked himself for not getting inside sooner. He dropped down in front of him.

"Let her go, now."

Clapping came from the shadows. Clark turned to see a small, thin man in a suit step out. He was smiling as he clapped.

"Well done, Mr. Superman, well done,' the man said. "When I hired these two I wasn't sure they could pull it off, but here you are. I told them to grab someone young and pretty from the East End. That's where you've been sighted before I found out. They already had someone in mind that owed them money. She is pretty, well, not right now, but she'll do."

"Who are you?' Clark asked.

"Jonathan Crane, Doctor Jonathan Crane."

"So doctor, what is this an ambush?' Clark asked, looking all around for others.

"Ambush sounds so tawdry, don't you think?" Crane replied. He kept walking towards Clark. Clark and Wayne moved away from the prone figure of Melinda and wearily moved closer. "I wanted to meet you."

"Why's that?"

"Cause you're worth a lot of money, Mr. Superman."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes, you got the wrong person's attention when you made your entrance at the Iceberg Lounge,' Crane explained, getting closer every moment. "You're to be made an example of and whoever does the deed will be handsomely rewarded."

"And you and your friends over there are here to collect, is that it?" Clark asked.

"Yes."

"You got me here, why don't you let the girl go,' Clark suggested. "She has no part in this."

"I'm multitasking, Mr. Superman,' Crane replied. "Besides, I doubt she's in any shape to go anywhere right now. By the time she is, she'll be far away. She'll be sold to the highest bidder. No one will wonder what happened to her and in a short while no one will even remember her."

"What the hell kind of doctor are you?" Clark asked in horror.

"I specialize in the mind, Mr. Superman,' Crane said. "People's fears are of great interest to me. NOW!"

Carl and Wayne lunged at Clark, but he spun and took them out with a left and a right. As he turned back to Crane, the man raised his arm and some sort of mist sprayed into Clark's face. A cloud of powder engulfed him. He tried not to breath, but it was too late and it was already in his system. Crane moved off, slipping into the shadows.

"Have you ever been afraid, Mr. Superman?' Crane's voice called to him. The room seemed to vibrate and flicker in and out. Sounds were amplified and Clark's perspective was all wrong. He stumbled over the body of Clark and lost his balance. The room seemed to telescope out and away from him. All of Clark's senses seemed heightened and on fire at once. He could hear Crane almost giggling as he whispered to him, yet Clark couldn't focus enough to find him.

"So sad, really. 'Crane whispered, staying in the shadows. "One mistake at the beginning and your future is snuffed out just like that. All those eyes on you wondering what in God's name are you. You're just some freak of nature, aren't you Mr. Superman?"

This was Crane's favorite part; the first signs of confusion, then panic and fear. He licked his smiling lips under his hood, his eyes intensely watching him. He had taken a full blast of the powder and it was already working it's magic. Crane would enjoy watching Superman suffer for a very long time before he killed him.

"All your skills stripped away by fear,' he continued. "You're helpless, aren't you, Mr. Superman?"

Clark's breathing was coming in gasps as he tried to understand and control what was happening to him. His heart was beating too fast and seemed to cause the whole warehouse to pulse with each beat. His eyes went wide as he swung his arms wildly at anything and everything. Crane's laugh echoed through him, like some haunted demon from hell. He was being overwhelmed by the panic, as the effects got stronger by the moment. Clark stumbled into some steel bars, knocking them down and when they hit the floor they transformed into snakes. Asps and vipers slithered at his feet and he backpedaled and fell.

"Helpless and hopeless,' Crane whispered. "The bigger they are, the easier they fall. You're nothing, Mr. Superman, just a freak that needs to be put down."

Clark scrambled on the floor, desperately to get away from the snakes, but as he glanced up, shadows darted across the dim lit roof. The whole warehouse seemed alive. Disembodies eyes were watching him, staring in horror at him. It was almost as if they could tell his whole life had been a lie. He was a freak, something that shouldn't be. He was an alien, not from this world and those eyes seemed to know it.

Crane played with him for several minutes, taunting and tormenting him. He relished the wild-eyed panic and fear in Clark's eyes and wanted more of it. The only thing that would make it perfect was to hear him scream. Crane wanted Superman to scream, to beg, to cry, and to fall deeper into his own fear and hopelessness. He craved it like a drug. Why hadn't he screamed, he wondered?

Clark managed to get to his feet and pressed his back against the cargo container, willing himself to stay upright, but every instinct within him wanted to curl up into a ball until the nightmares went away.

"You found your friend's new home,' Crane said to her. "Inside that crate are all her new playmates. Why don't you take a look?"

Clark shuddered as he looked at the cargo container, his mind bombarded with terrifying visions and ideas of what might be inside. Something seemed to draw his fingers towards the latch and he managed to get it open just a fraction. Darkness filled the container and he heard whimpers and sobs too numerous to count yet still he didn't scream. Then he saw the eyes, so many of them desperate and terrified looking out of the darkness at him.

"Even they can see you're a freak, Mr. Superman,' Crane said with a laugh. "Whatever things spawned you must have cursed the very sight of you. A freak, that's all you are. You're helpless and can't do anything to stop what's going to happen. All those eyes are just going to watch!"

This was the wrong thing to say, but Crane had no way of knowing it at the time. Clark had been fighting the effects as hard as he could for several minutes, but the mention of his parents snapped something inside Clark. Anger began to build within him. Crane's last words about how he couldn't do anything brought back another memory. He had said the words to Dinah, he could so he did. Even in this panic Clark knew that hadn't changed. He had the strength to fight this.

"Time to die, Mr. Superman,' Crane whispered. "At the hands of the Scarecrow!"

Crane was overconfident and stepped out of the shadows for the kill. Clark saw him, blurred and out of focus, the hideous mask distorting his features. Clark squinted, his eyes feeling like they were on fire. Crane came at him, but Clark somehow managed to dodge and move away.

"You can't escape!' Crane shouted as he reached down and picked up a thin, hard pipe. "Time to put the freak out of everyone's misery!"

Clark's vision was off, but he sensed Crane moving towards him. Pushing off from the container, he tried to fight but Crane swung the pipe before Clark could block it. He gasped in pain and crumbled to the ground as Crane viciously hit him across the back of the legs with the pipe. He smiled as he watched her fall.

"Don't worry, Mr. Superman, this is for your own good,' he gleefully said, striking Clark again on the shoulder. Pain lanced through him and tears came to his eyes as he tried to move away. His red cape with that huge S symbol on it hung down around his body. It made a perfect target, Crane thought.

"This will hurt you more than me, Mr. Superman,' he said. Raising the pipe over his head, he slammed it down across Clark's back, driving him into the cement floor. Crane watched his body shudder and writhe in pain, loving every minute of it. He started to laugh as he stood over him, wanting him to know fear right up to the end. His laugh died on his lips as he saw Clark look up at him. His eyes were glowing red.

"What the hell,' Crane shouted, jumping away from him. This wasn't how it was suppose to go, he desperately thought. He brought his arm up to spray another dose of the toxin. Clark saw it coming, his eyes burning, yet everything was starting to come back into focus. He reacted without thinking. Exhaling, he blew as hard as he could. The toxin seemed to stop in midair and then reverse course. Crane raised his hands too late as his own toxin engulfed him.

"No!" He screamed, stumbling back and falling to the ground. He felt the pipe still in his hand suddenly grow intensely hot. He dropped it, struggling with what was happening to him. He looked over, but it seemed the pipe was melting before his eyes. Crane shut them, desperate to stop the visions. He heard movement to his right and when he opened his again, Superman was standing over him. His eyes seemed to have vanished, red pulses with smoke coming off them in their place.

"What are you?" Crane screamed.

Clark reached down and picked Crane up be his collar. He held him several feet off the ground in front of him. The toxin was still in his system, but he was overcoming it. Anger filled him, as he looked at Crane.

"What are you?" Crane repeated, only this time it was more of a whimper.

"You talk about fear, doctor,' Clark managed to say. "I'm what you should fear."

* * *

Gotham – Upper West Side

Carmine Falcone stood in his penthouse apartment raging at his men.

"Someone stole from me?" He shouted. "From me?"

He swept the back of his hand across the main table, it's contains crashing to the floor and shattering.

"You think it was one of the other families?'

"No, they wouldn't have the balls," Carmine snapped. "A pro did this and I want whoever it was to pay. You hear me, pay!"

'We'll put the word out."

Carmine turned and stared at his open safe. The spoils of his criminal life were gone. No one stole from him, no one. He wanted blood. Whoever did this, he wanted to suffer and die knowing it was him that was responsible. He turned to his men and held up his hand, the diamond picky ring flashing in the light.

"No." Carmine said. "I want whoever did this to suffer. Get me Mr. Zsasz. Tell him I've got a life he needs to liberate in his own special way. Whatever his price, tell him I'll pay it."

"Boss, we can handle this,' Falcone's second offered. "I'll send a few guys to take care of it. Zsasz is a nut, a fucking wackjob."

Carmine backhanded the man, knocking him to the ground.

"Don't ever question me again. You hear?!" Carmine shouted. "We're going to have a war on our hands, we can't spare any of our men! I know Zsasz is a demented, sick bastard, that's why I want him! No, do what you're told!"

* * *

Gotham – The Warehouse District

Batman moved down front the rafters. He could hear the sirens getting closer. Two men were unconscious on the ground. A young woman seemed near catatonic, curled up in the fetal position. Off to the left a group of twenty young women sat together. They had blankets wrapped around them, but he could see the fear in their eyes. He had seen that look before and it only meant one man, Scarecrow, yet he wasn't anywhere to be found.

What happened here, he couldn't help wondering? Where was Crane? Who was the anonymous tipster that called this in to the police? He had only a short time to investigate. He surveyed everything but his eyes finally returned to the two unconscious men. They were the ones that were going to be killed on the rooftop, before the man in the red cape came jumping in. Was this tied to the Superman somehow he couldn't help wondering? A thousand questions went through his mind, but they would have to wait. He turned towards the young women and in his gentlest voice said.

"Everything is going to be okay. The police are on their way. You're nightmare is over, I promise you."

* * *

Gotham – The Harbor

The Iceberg Lounge was up and running. It was one minute till midnight and the place was packed. Oswald was happy as the money was once again coming in. It seemed Gotham's entire underworld was here tonight, so side deals and contracts would bring in even more money. If things kept up, he would make his 100 grand back by the end of the night. He was in such a good mood he had ordered champagne to be given out at midnight. The cheap stuff, of course, but it was the gesture that counted. He could see his staff moving through the crowd passing out the glasses and he decided he would make a toast. Signaling the DJ, the music stopped and Oswald stood.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the reopening of the Iceberg Lounge,' he said. "I want you all to have a good time and spend lots of money!"

There was a laugh and he was just about to continue, when two red beams sliced through the glass roof. The customers scrambled out the way, and in the next moment the glass shattered. People screamed and dove for cover. Oswald stood in stunned silence, his mouth open, as he couldn't believe this was happening again. Then he saw him. The man they were called Superman dropped down through the again shattered roof and landed on the center of the dance floor. He had something over his shoulder and let it slip to the floor once he stopped. A gasp went through the crowd as they recognized Scarecrow. He was unconscious. Everyone looked at Superman.

"I'm told someone here put a bounty on me,' he said. Clark was still angry over everything that had happened this evening. He knew this was rash, but in the moment he didn't give a damn. He glanced down at Crane. "He tried to collect it. He failed. If anyone else tried to collect, I'll come back for whoever's responsible. You have my promise on that."

He looked at everyone in the room for a moment and then slowly bent his knees. A collective gasp went through the room as he jumped, disappearing back through the shattered glass roof and into the darkness. Bedlam ensued.


	15. Chapter 15

Don't be a Target

Gotham

Dinah's emotions had swung wildly all night. She spent most of it curled up on her couch, slumped back into the cushions. At first she was miserable. Next she was depressed and miserable. Ice cream helped, (her favorite was Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey®) but then she wondered if she was supposed to be the monkey getting chunky by eating it, which brought back the depressed and miserable feelings along with the notion she might be getting fat. Hoping to pull herself out of her funk, she turned on the television. The Princess Bride was on and while she'd seen it before, Dinah found herself smiling at several parts. Three words ruined it, _'As You Wish'_ and she was back to feeling miserable and depressed, except now she felt lonely too.

She switched over to the late, late news, absently think maybe someone died and was having a worse night than she am. Of course as soon as she thought this, she felt guilty and stupid for thinking it. So then she was depressed, miserable, lonely, guilty and feeling stupid. She wondered if Zatanna ever had nights like this. Probably not, Dinah guessed. She thought about calling Ev, but at this time of night she was probably out. Dinah had been out with Ev before and knew what kind of 'fun' she liked to have and didn't feel up to all that.

There was a breaking news story about an incident at the Iceberg Lounge. Dinah's ears perked up and she sat up and put her feet on the floor. The reporter was trying to describe what happened, but said he'd never seen anything like it. They went to the videotape and it was obviously captured on someone's cell phone. The Penguin was offering a toast and then a loud crash was heard. The camera swung widely up and then focused on a man falling from the roof. He must have come through the glass as it was showering down all around him. He landed and then dropped something from his shoulder. It was another man, wearing some sort of bag over his head.

"Oh, my God, it's Clark!" Dinah gasped. Astonishment and shock replaced the other emotions as she watched him briefly speak and then jump back through the shattered roof. The camera moved wildly for a moment as everyone in the club was shouting and milling about. Then it focused on the man unconscious on the floor and Dinah got her second surprise.

"That's the fucking Scarecrow!"

Dinah slumped back against the cushions, just numb as she watched the reporter come back on the screen. Superman they were calling him, the reporter said and from the footage, he certainly seemed just that. The station replayed the video over and over, slowing it down and trying to zoom in on Clark's face. It was too unsteady to get a really good look at him, but then they showed the reporter interviewing witnesses. Their descriptions varied wildly but all seemed to agree that the Superman was huge, at least 7 foot. Several of the women commented that he was incredibly handsome.

Dinah sat listening to all of it wondering if they were describing the same guy she knew. It was as if they were seeing him in their minds as larger than life, instead of the person that actually fell through the roof. Yes, Clark was good looking, but they made him out to be some matinee idol, Dinah thought. How could they make such wild claims about a guy that had been right in front of them? Didn't they see who he really was, she wondered? As that question came to her mind, the irony was too much for her not to notice. Dinah groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

It's always a shock to the system when you realize the world doesn't revolve around you. It's so easy to fall into the trap. Each of us sees the world from our point of view and tries to find some meaning in all of it. That's natural, but sometimes it can color the world we see. A look from a stranger or a comment overheard and we begin to wonder if there was meaning in them meant for us. Someone doesn't answer when we call and we start thinking they are avoiding us. Was the slight from the clerk at the market intentional or just an accident? Our minds begin to spin scenarios and stories. In extreme cases this leads to full on paranoia. In the more mundane cases it sometimes involves someone thinking they've been disrespected. Something stupid and tragic always comes from that.

Dinah realized her own mistake. While she had good reason to be paranoid she had let it affect how she saw everything, including Clark. She had been so worried about letting her guard down in case someone was trying to hurt her; she'd invented someone to fit that role. The irony was that Dinah had done to herself what she had been so vigilante against.

Her mind flashed back to all the things she'd thought were warning signs with Clark and now saw them in a different light. Hundreds of people from all over get of the bus everyday. Why had she been so suspicious about that? He was a Meta, of course he wouldn't just tell everyone, she thought. They'd only been on one date, he wasn't going to just throw that out in the getting to know you conversation. She knew from experience that was something you kept a secret. If he'd really been what she thought he was he could have attacked her so many times. It wouldn't have been easy, but when he didn't it just made her more suspicious.

"Oh, God,' Dinah groaned as she realized she'd pulled a gun on a farm boy from Kansas. Yes, he was obviously more than just a farm boy, judging by the video she'd just seen, but he wasn't what she thought he was. Clark was like the hundreds of other Metas out there that had no connection to Dinah's past. They were just struggled to figure out what was happening to them, just like she was. What made it worse was Clark was actually trying to do something with his abilities and what did she do? Accuse him of being a liar and a spy.

As she sat there, Dinah wondered why it had been so hard for her to believe that a guy might be interested in her just for her? The same things she had thought about him, Clark had probably thought about her, she surmised. She had been so worried he was trying to get inside her guard to kill her; she hadn't even realized he was just trying to get into her pants. Clark was a guy, she realized, just a good-looking guy that was attracted to her. He'd said as much, but she'd been too busy looking for hidden connections to listen.

And now she'd screwed it up totally. She could only imagine what he must think of her. Some crazy, psycho bitch that he was better off out of his life, she expected he was probably thinking. She knew she owed him an apology at the very least, but wondered if he even wanted to hear it now?

Flicking off the television, Dinah slumped back into the couch. Her emotions came rushing back. The ones from earlier were there, miserable, depressed and lonely, but now she had some new ones to deal with, regret and remorse.

* * *

Gotham

Clark made it back to the roof of his building as the adrenaline of the night was finally wearing off. It had all been a rush of emotions and actions, but now as he slowed down he had time to realize what he'd done.

His eyes, what had happened to his eyes, he wondered? The burning sensation was gone, but now something far more frightening had taken its place. He'd shot beams of fire from his eyes. How was that possible? What was he becoming? Looking up into the sky he tried to see if it was real or just some hallucination from Crane's toxin. Clark wasn't sure how to do it, so he just tried concentrating. It took a moment, but then two red beams shot out into the sky. He quickly shut his eyes, but now he was sure.

Bits and pieces began to filter back. His breath, he had somehow blown Crane's toxin back into his face. Looking around the rooftop he saw a scrap of paper some twenty feet away. Trying again, his eyes went wide in shock as he saw the paper flutter away into the night. Trying to remain as calm as possible, Clark continued replaying what happened. Crane had hit in with a metal pipe, yet standing on the rooftop he felt no pain. Lifting up his shirt he saw no bruising either. He was sure he'd felt the blows, but his body showed no signs of them.

He couldn't help wondering if this was just another part of what was happening to him. He'd grown up just like everyone else, feeling the same pain and injuries they did, yet now he knew he was different. Being hit with a metal pipe hadn't hurt him, yet his mind and body reacted like it had. It was almost as if their responses were still catching up with this new reality.

This thought brought another memory back. When he'd leaped from the Iceberg Lounge after dropping Crane, there had been a moment, just a moment, when he actually thought he might be flying. All his experiences told him that was impossible even as his momentum slowed and he landed on the roof. Now he wondered if that wasn't just his mind and body reacting as it always had. So much seemed to be happening to him. It was all so confusing and frightening. He already had done impossible things, was it just a matter of his mind and body reconciling to this new reality? Was there more to come as far as abilities went?

His ship had been damaged when it landed so he knew so little about where he came from. He'd grown up feeling and acting human, but now he had to wonder if Kryptonians were far different than he realized. He might look like everyone else on this planet, but with each day he was realizing he was something different, something more. He was both frightened and confused. Too many questions remained unanswered. He needed to step back from all of it until he had a better handle on these new abilities. They were far too dangerous for him not to have control of.

* * *

Gotham

Ev Starling was enjoying herself. She was currently playing pool in a biker bar and winning. The money and shots were lined up on the table and she knew as the night went on and both continued to accumulate there were going to be some hard feelings. The trick was nothing just before the moment when things all went to shit and slipping out.

It was a dangerous game she was playing but Ev liked to live on the edge. She was only 24 and had already packed a lifetime into those years. Who would have guess only 6 years ago she was just another college freshman trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. It had all started simply by answering an ad posted on the dorm bulletin board. It seemed her ability to speak Japanese and Chinese, along with knowing her way around a gun made her a perfect candidate for the special projects unit that was recruiting.

She never did finish that freshman year, but she'd learned things most people would never know existed. She was good at what she did and enjoyed every minute of it. The danger had become addictive and she sought it out at every turn. Coming to this place tonight was a perfect example. A woman alone in a place like this was courting disaster. Ev saw the way the bikers looked at her, like hungry dogs wanting to get fed. As she bent over to line up her next shot, she knew that were checking out her ass, but they also got a look at the gun she had tucked into her waistband. The other gun under her vest and the knife in her boot they would only find out about if they tried anything.

Her phone went off and then she took her shot. 8 ball, corner pocket, she'd won again. Glancing at her phone she could hear the rumblings going through the crowd.

"Don't worry, I'm feeling lucky tonight,' she said with a big smile. "I just need to take this, but I'll be ready for all comers after that."

She moved over and pocketed most of the money, leaving a twenty on the table. She down the all but two of the shots and then headed towards the back door as she answer the phone.

"What?"

Once she was outside, Ev broke into a sprint and scaled over the back fence. She was moving fast away from the club. She would be long gone by the time they realized it. She'd felt that moment where everything goes to shit was close and slipped away.

"Are you still on Gotham?" The voice on the other end asked.

"You know I am,' Eve replied. She glanced behind her, before moving to where she hid her motorcycle.

"Are you still in contact with Black Canary?"

"Yeah." Ev said, as she climbed on, giving everything the once over. "Why?"

"She's a target."

"Tell me something new,' Ev joked.

"Don't give me your lip, Evelyn," the voice on the other said replied.

The use of her real first name stopped Ev.

"So Dinah's a target, she has been for some time,' Ev finally said.

"This is different,' the voice stated. "Her old boss, Lynch, has taken out a contract. Deadshot is already in Gotham as we speak. It's shoot to kill."

"Deadshot? I thought he was in prison?" Ev replied.

"He was and will be again,' the voice said. "He's part of a special unit working off their time. This isn't a part of that, this is a straight murder for hire. He's after Dinah and he's very good."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So you'll warn her,' the voice replied.

"Again, why?' Ev asked. "You don't do anything if there isn't something in it for you?"

"Call it loyalty to a former teammate if you want,' the voice said.

"A former teammate?"

"I wasn't always in the position I am now,' the voice replied. "I don't think I have to mention this stays just between you and me, do I?"

"No."

"Good. Tell Dinah,' the voice said. "She deserves a fighting chance."

The line went dead. Ev put the phone in her pocket and started her bike. She was moving in the next moment.

* * *

Gotham

Selina was out in the darkness, moving over the city. She had no special agenda tonight; although there were a few things she had her eye on. This little trip was more about enjoying herself and the skills she was using would come in handy later. She liked the freedom of her knew career, as well as the money and excitement. A she landed on one of the stone gargoyles atop a downtown building she stopped and took in the view. From up here she could see everything. It seemed so far away from where she came from. Possibilities were just starting to expand her mind beyond what she'd always known.

"I hope you're staying out of trouble."

The gruff voice came out of the darkness, but she knew immediately whose it was. Batman.

"I'm clean, detective,' she replied with a smile.

"Keep it that way."

"What fun would that be? You'd be bored to death if I wasn't around,' she teased. It was a game they'd been playing and she knew he enjoyed it as much as she did.

"I think I'd survive." He said.

"Maybe, but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

She saw him move slightly out of the shadows. His expression was grim, but then it usually was.

"You're in danger."

"I'm not going to fall, if that's what you're talking about,' Selina replied.

"Falcone's hired Zsasz to hunt you down,' he said.

"Why? He doesn't have anything on me?"

"You robbed his penthouse."

"He doesn't know that,' Selina said. "You're just guessing too."

"He doesn't know yet, but I do,' he replied. "It had all your special touches. You might as well have signed it."

"Falcone's not you,' Selina replied.

"Falcone's a thug, but even though Zsasz is a psycho, he'll figure it out,' he said. "He'll be coming for you."

"To liberate my head from my body, I get the picture,' Selina groaned. "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you'll be careful."

"Aw, you do care,' she teased, but he was already back in the shadows.

* * *

Gotham

Dinah had brought the ice cream back out. At this point she didn't care about whether she was the monkey that would get chunky eating it or not. It had been one of those nights. She was just decided between the Oxygen network or the Lifetime network and their selection of Judith Light movies, when she heard Ev's motorcycle pull up at the back door. Out of reflex, Dinah was ready just in case it wasn't Ev, but in the next moment she came barging in. Ev walked over and stopped in front of Dinah, glanced at the ice cream and then the TV.

"One of those nights, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you can add to your fat ass some other time, you've got trouble," Ev said.

Dinah put the ice cream down and stood up.

"What?"

"Deadshot has been hired by your old boss,' Eve informed her. "He's in Gotham right now, gunning for you. It's a termination contract."

"He's in Gotham?' Dinah asked as she moved over to a cabinet.

"Yeah."

"How do you know this?" Dinah asked, as she opened one of the top drawers.

"I have my sources,' Ev replied. "The important thing is Deadshot is coming for you."

Dinah turned and she was holding two 45s.

"Well let's go find him,' she said and then headed towards the door. Ev was right with her.

"And by the way, I do not have a fat ass,' Dinah said.

"You keep telling yourself that, honey,' Ev replied with a smirk.

Dinah gave her a pissed look, but didn't stop.


	16. Chapter 16

Baby's Breath Part 1

And how far is halfway there?  
I didn't see you on the trail  
Did almost become good enough?

Gotham

Clark was back in his apartment, but he couldn't sleep. He was afraid, afraid what these new abilities might do. Others might be worried, but they couldn't be as frightened as the man that possessed them. Just the thought that if he fell asleep those beams of fire might shoot from his eyes and kill someone innocent that lived around him kept him from his comfortable bed. He didn't know why it was happening or even what was happening to him exactly. He didn't know if it was just a matter of control or not. If it wasn't, then he couldn't risk falling asleep around anyone.

There was no one to ask or seek advice from, as this was a reminder that he was unique, a singular being on this planet as far as he knew. Krypton had always been just a vague notion in the back of his mind growing up, but now his mysterious heritage had forced itself into the front of his consciousness. The pretending that he was like everyone else as over. The closest approximation to what was happening to him was someone with Meta abilities that had begun to manifest themselves. The only Meta Clark knew was Dinah and he was almost positive whatever ability she had it was nothing like what he was experiencing.

He had to figure this all out by himself. His job, his hobby of helping others, for which it seemed he'd earn the nickname of Superman, everything took a backseat to figuring out what was happening to him. He suddenly became aware of just how small his apartment was, how tiny the neighborhood around him was. How densely packed just his block was with people he might be putting at risk. He could almost hear all of them, in their separate rooms leading their separate lives, yet they were all around, pressing in on him, so that one mistake could create mayhem for so many people. If he couldn't get a handle on this, there was no place for him around anyone.

Grabbing a coat, Clark knew he had to find out what all of this meant. It wasn't about Superman or even Clark Kent, it was about finding out if he could live around people without jeopardizing their lives. He opened the window and stepped out onto the fire escape. The rain was just starting. Slipping over the railing he was on the ground in the next moment. He had to find someplace isolated enough to test these new abilities before something horrible happened.

* * *

Gotham – Warehouse District

Darkness at the break of noon  
Shadows even the silver spoon  
The handmade blade, the child's balloon

Deadshot knew his craft and he also knew his target. Dinah Lance wasn't just some run of the mill fugitive; she was a trained and deadly operative. He assumed by now, she knew he was gunning for her. Given her background she wasn't the type to run and hide. She would be coming for him, bringing the attack to him instead of waiting. He admired that about her. It didn't change what he was going to do, but he could appreciate a pro.

He picked the location for their confrontation. Assuming she would know it was an ambush, he'd set up automatic rifles at different angles along the direct path. Sensors and trip wires lined the only way in. He'd prefer to use the gun strapped to his arm, but they weren't paying him for style points on this job. If he were lucky he'd catch her arriving. Dinah would set off a sensor or miss a trip wire and be caught in the crossfire of his guns. Again, knowing she was a pro, he had every reason to believe she would make it through the gauntlet he'd set up for her. The professional in him hope that was the case. While an easy kill would achieve the objective, there was no sport, no challenge in it. Part of him hoped she made it through, so he could hunt her down among these abandoned buildings. That was the risk and the challenge, to take her out after she'd made it through everything else. She would be the prey, a deadly dangerous prey, but still prey. He would kill her up close so she would know who had done it. That was the least he could do for a pro like Dinah.

Now it was just a matter of waiting. The rain had started, a light mist, but the skies said more was on the way.

* * *

Gotham – Iceberg Lounge

I can feel their eyes are watching  
In case I lose myself again  
Sometimes I think I'm happy here  
Sometimes, yet I still pretend  
I can't remember how this got started  
But I can tell you exactly how it will end

Oswald Cobblepot stood, his pudgy neck cranked back looking up at the repairmen fixing his glass ceiling again. He was angry and in his anger he made little grumbling noises. Unfortunately for him they sounded something like a Penguin, which along with his general appearance was the reason for his nickname. Around him employees were saying it would be okay and that Superman would pay but Oswald wasn't listening. The rain was supposed to be blocked by the canvass that covered the broken ceiling, but every few seconds, Oswald watched as a drop fell the sixty feet from the ceiling to the ballroom floor below. He was pissed. Yes, at this Superman fellow, but also at himself. He'd let his emotions rule and this was the result.

A man that can fall 60 feet and land without being harmed wasn't someone Oswald should have taken so lightly. The look in Crane's eyes told him that this, this Superman was something Gotham hadn't seen before. Oh, they had a few Metas running around, but for the most part even as violent and corrupt as the city was, most of the players on both sides were normal humans. None of them could leap back out the shattered roof moments after falling through it.

His bounty on this Superman had failed spectacularly in front of everyone. Oh, someone still might take him down, but everyone would remember how weak Oswald had looked. In his business, weakness always meant opportunity for someone else. Instead of taking on Superman they would turn and take on Oswald. His rash move meant he had to watch his back against everyone now. Oswald had too many irons in the fire to risk another public attempt on Superman. He hadn't given up on making the strong man pay; he just would do it behind the scenes. Business always came first and there was a saying about revenge being best served cold. Oswald liked it cold, the colder the better.

As another drop of rainwater splashed against the marble floor, another grunt of irritation came from his lips.

* * *

Gotham – Warehouse district

You cant stop us on the road to freedom  
You cant keep us cause our eyes can see  
Men with insight, men in granite  
Knights in armor bent on chivalry

Dinah slowed her motorcycle to a stop and Ev followed her lead. Dinah knew an ambush was waiting for her up ahead, but she wasn't going to play by the rules. She took her helmet off and set it on the back of her bike before swinging her leg over the frame. The rain was starting to pick up. The clouds obscured the moon and darkness engulfed the city.

"What are you doing?" Ev asked.

Dinah checked the clips on both of her guns again before replying.

"I'm going in on foot,' she said.

"Why?" Ev asked. "You know it's an ambush."

"Yes, but he knows I know it's an ambush,' Dinah replied. "He's probably got a little shooting gallery set up for me from this point forward. He'll hope I make it through, so he can do the deed close up and personal. It's in his profile and I've read all about him. He probably doesn't even realize how predictable he is."

"So for those of us that haven't read his profile, enlighten us,' Ev said, a bit of snark slipping into her voice.

"He wants to dictate the terms of the engagement,' Dinah explained, ignoring the snark. "I'm not going to let him. He wants it up close, he's going to get it much closer than he realizes. I'm just a target to him, prey really, and up until this moment I've been following the same script he has. Now I'm going to change that."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself, Di,' Ev commented.

"There's a reason he's been in and out of jail and I'm still free, Ev,' Dinah explained. "He's about to find out why."

* * *

Gotham – Falcone's Penthouse

(How you like it daddy?)  
Would you do it from the front?  
(How you like it daddy?)  
Would you do it from the back?  
(How you like it daddy?)  
Fyna break it down like that!  
(How you like it daddy?)

Mr. Zsasz moved slowly through the opulent decor, seemingly not noticing any of it. Carmine Falcone had left instructions to stay out of Zsasz's way. One look at him and Falcone's men had been more than happy to oblige. Outside the rain splashed against the terrace creating little pools of of ever changing reflections. The lights from the nearby buildings bent and twisted against the ripples.

Victor Zsasz wasn't exactly a brain surgeon, but he was a little smarter than Falcone and his boys. He was also motivated. Not by the money Falcone promised him but by the chance to add to the tally on his body. He was by every definition a serial killer. He made a little mark on his flesh for every kill. He wanted to make another mark and Falcone's thief was the perfect subject.

The actually crime didn't interest Zsasz. He'd had money once and lost it all. Something like that can break a man, but in Victor's case he had an epiphany. Broke and hopeless he'd been about to commit suicide by jumping of Gotham Bridge when a homeless man demanding money accosted him. Zsasz's epiphany happened when he looked into the man's eyes. His revelation was that all life was meaningless and that nothing nor anyone matters. He then proceeded to stab the man to death as a "gift" for saving his life. From then on, he dedicated himself to "liberating" others from their pointless existence. Men like Falcone valued things, easily replaceable things for the most part. They would never understand the calling Victor Zsasz was answering.

He didn't really need to see the crime scene. He wasn't a detective. They could have just told him the facts and it would have eliminated most thieves. A professional job against one of the most feared crime bosses in the city, in and out without leaving any prints. That meant a real pro. The items stolen showed taste, but a couple of the smaller ones were taken just to piss Falcone off. A pro that liked living dangerously. As he moved around the penthouse, Victor wasn't really sure what he was looking for. He knew there probably weren't any clues, but the still rational part of his brain knew he had to put on a show for Falcone's men.

The truth was he'd already narrowed the list of possible thieves to four or five. He would just kill them all and let Falcone sort out who was the real one. He kind of hoped it was the woman. Victor had a special taste for liberating the fairer sex. She would be the first and the one he would have done her for free. Just thinking about her, he could almost smell her perfume in the air. It was just a hint, but he thought he smelled Chanel No.5. Yes, he would definitely start with the woman. If she weren't the thief, well that really didn't matter, she'd be the first liberated then.

* * *

Gotham

On the marbled midnight mile  
Suddenly just packed its bags  
Now shines from her bright smile  
Then she appeared  
Out of nowhere.

The rain was coming down hard. The rhythmic beat of it against the rooftop was the only sound in the room. Deadshot knew something was wrong. It shouldn't have taken her this long to find him. He'd laid an obscure enough trail of breadcrumbs that only a professional like Dinah would be able to follow. She should have been fighting her way through his gauntlet by now. He'd thought of every angle she might try and arrive from. They were all covered. He should have heard something by now. Whether she tried getting through in a car or a motorcycle or even a bus, it would have been cut to ribbons. The idea had always been to wear her down, make her use as much energy as possible before the final confrontation. It might mean a fraction of a second, but that would be his edge.

Something was definitely wrong.

At first he thought it was a tornado siren or even an air raid warning, but as it seemed to intensify he glanced up at the ceiling. Flakes of paint and dust were starting to drift down, as the noise got louder. It was when the first crack appeared he realized what it was, Canary Cry. Beads of water began leaking through. He barely had a second to move before the whole ceiling shattered in on itself. He saw her and the guns in her hands a moment before she started firing. Deadshot scrambled to find cover, kicking himself for not thinking of her coming from above. Her aim was good, but he offered a moving target. He could feel just how close the bullets passed him. It hadn't been her pattern, her modus operandi, so he hadn't considered above in his planning. He unleashed a volley of bullets hoping to buy some time while he tried to come up with something else. A flash of lightening flicked across the sky, illuminating the pouring rain and his target. She was on her feet firing at him.

Dinah was soaked to the skin, her blond locks plastered to the back of her head. She had led Ev over and around his carefully constructed traps for the last half hour. The rain made it slow, dangerous going, but Dinah kept her focus on the objective. Even before Team 7 and Lynch, Dinah had been a highly trained operative. She and Kurt were among the elite, that's why they'd been tapped they were told to contact the rest of the team members. That wasn't only part of the reason Dinah now knew, but the skills she acquired before it had all happened, were still there.

She didn't underestimate Deadshot as a killer and dangerous opponent. His file attested to his skill. He'd been taken down before though. Improvisational thinking wasn't his strong suit. He liked having a plan and working it through. His weakness was Dinah's strength. She liked having a plan too, but knew from experience plans change when faced with reality. There was a famous quote from Mike Tyson of all people, from early on in his career. He'd been asked how he would counter his opponent's plan for the fight. His quote went something like; "Everyone has a plan until they get hit."

Dinah was always reluctant to use her sonic, Meta ability. She didn't have control over it and that made it too much of a risk to collateral damage. Collateral damage, she dryly thought, the euphemism for killing innocent civilians. Two things changed the equation tonight. One was the area was mostly abandoned buildings and two was that Deadshot was trying to kill her. When your life is on the line, you use every available option.

She'd missed her best chance at taking him down quickly when the roof collapsed. That meant this was going to be a long hard fight, but she wasn't going to back down from it. Deadshot represented the agency's first overt attack on her and she wanted to send them a message they would clearly understand. She wasn't going down so easily. Moving through the rain, she used what cover she could while continuing to return his fire. She wanted all of his attention focused on her.

Deadshot knew he was better with a gun than she was. The shock of her entrance was beginning to wear off and now it was just a gun battle. His confidence began to rise. She was good, but he was better. He continued to fire, making her constantly move from one spot to the next. He was narrowing in on her, his shots getting closer and closer by the second. He could see her wet blond locks bobbing and weaving across the room and it was only a matter of time before he center targeted her and made the kill shot to the head.

Pain suddenly lanced through his right arm. It took him a moment to realize he'd been shot. It knocked his aim off and he missed delivering the kill shot. The angle was all wrong for Dinah, so there had to be another shooter. A dark haired woman, almost more aggressive than Dinah Lance fired from the remains of the roof and then leaped down to join her comrade. Her shot had thrown Deadshot's aim off but it was only a flesh wound. Not bothering to aim carefully, he returned fire. One of his shots clipped Ev's leg as she landed, knocking her off balance. She went down behind some of the rubble from the ceiling. Dinah saw Ev go down and her Canary Cry came out almost involuntarily.

Deadshot felt the impact like a wave roaring across the room. He was flung back, slamming into the door that led to the hallway. The support beams bent and swayed as the sonic vibrations threatened to bring the whole building down around their ears. Only his reinforced outfit and sonic disruptor earplugs save him. Deadshot knew this was quickly becoming a losing battle. He could still feel her Cry reverberating through his body and knew he couldn't stand another blast.

Dinah rushed towards Ev, picking her way, always staying behind some cover. She fired repeated bursts to keep Deadshot on the defensive, but her main focus was Ev. She was here because of her and Dinah wasn't about to lose another friend in battle. The second Cry hadn't been intentional, just a reaction. The tight control she tried to maintain over those dangerous abilities had slipped when she saw Ev go down. She could hear the metal support beams groan as they shuddered to remain standing. A second of lost control had almost killed them all.

Deadshot sensed things slipping away from him. The impact of her Cry made his whole body feel off, almost as if his organs were still trying to recover. Biting back the pain, he tried opening the door to the hallway, but her Cry and the roof collapsing had jammed it shut. Firing another quick volley at them, he turned his gun towards the floor. Spinning he fired in a circle again and again until the concrete gave way. He dropped down to the next floor through the hole he'd created. Once he landed, Deadshot raised his gun and opened fire at the closest support beam. It wouldn't take much to bring them tumbling down. If those paying him needed proof for her death, let them come and dig her out.

Dinah smiled she saw Ev struggled to stand, cursing the whole time. Before she could say anything, Dinah saw the support beams shudder and then begin to bucket.

"Can you move?" She asked Ev.

"Yeah, why?'

"Run!" Dinah shouted and pointed towards the beams.

"Oh, shit!" Ev said, as Dinah pulled her to her feet and they rushed towards the broken window on the side of the building. They couldn't stop as the beams gave way and the whole floor began to crumble. They leaped through the window and into the dark rainy night, another string of obscenities coming from both their lips.

* * *

Gotham – The waterfront

The hawk had his whole family out  
there in the wind, and he's got a message  
for you to beware cause he be kickin' your  
ass in, in a cold blooded fashion  
dishin' out more than a good man can bear

The street sign said Dumont Avenue, but someone who'd actually been there had scratched Dumont out and written Desolation over it. They captured the wasteland quality of the place. It was just the sort of venue Clark needed. The rain was soaking through his coat and he could feel the dampness against his skin. He'd walked all the way, his mind going over and over what he hoped to find out. He'd made one stop at a small bodega. He bought several plastic bottles of water and a cheap keychain flashlight. Clark was carrying them in a soaked brown paper bag under his left arm.

The dilapidated pier and remnants of a warehouse sat at the tip of one of the crocked fingers that made up the narrows. He stood on the edge of the water, looking out as the storm churned up waves that rolled endlessly towards the shore. This was the end of the line. He turned and headed back into the remains of the warehouse. Half of it was gone and the rain poured down. As he switched on the flashlight, several birds took flight and the rats moved for cover. He looked around and noticed several feral cats seemed to be crouching the rafters, just watching him as if waiting to see what he would do.

He just assumed they wouldn't attack, and go on with the reason he was here. He needed more light in the room and after taking a deep breath concentrated on using his eyes to light a pile of old rags and bits of wood. It didn't happen right away, as it seemed the fear was disrupting his concentration. Finally he reminded himself this was why he was here and then two beams of red shot out igniting the pile. The abandon space lit up, a warm glow filling it. Clark made sure nothing else had caught on fire before starting to set up for his test. He found two old cinder blocks and a relatively straight long piece of metal and set them so he'd be facing the water, just inside the remaining warehouse and out of the rain.

Taking the water bottles from the soaked paper bag, he lined them up on top of the piece of metal. They were five feet apart from each other. He stepped back fifteen feet and tried to calm himself. It seemed like a simple test, but in the moment Clark felt like it might determine his future. He decided to start with the easier of the two abilities. Breathing in through his nose, Clark sent a thin stream of cold air rushing towards the first bottle. His eye lit up as he watched ice begin to form and in moments it was frozen solid along with the metal under it. He repeated the process two more times, gaining confidence with each success.

Now came the scary part. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down and then opened his eyes wide. If the ability was involuntary those red beams should fire out destroying everything front of him. Nothing, he waited for several moments, but nothing happened. The burning sensation he'd been experiencing for the last week or so was gone, but it seemed he had some control over the beams. Changing his posture, this time Clark concentrated on using the beams. It took a second, but then they shot out vaporizing the fourth bottle of water.

One answer down, but he still needed to learn how to control his 'heat' vision much more before he felt safe.

* * *

Gotham – East End

She had an horror of rooms  
She was tired you can't hide beat  
When I looked in her eyes  
They were blue but nobody home

Well, she could've been a killer  
If she didn't walk the way she do and she do  
She opened strange doors  
That we'd never close again

Selina opened the front door to her building and slipped inside. It was very late and the rain had soaked her on the walk back. She was carrying a bag of groceries she'd bought at the local deli that was still open. She wasn't tired, but still planned on a quiet night, perhaps lighting a few candles and opening a bottle of wine. She was staying in, letting the city roll on without her. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and glanced up at the long climb ahead of her. She loved her top floor apartment, but sometimes she wished there was an elevator. Tonight was one of those times.

With a sigh, she started the long trudge up the stairs, the sound of her boots heels echoing with each step. As she made it up one flight after another, she could hear music from some apartments and televisions from others. She stopped on one particular landing and glanced at Clark's door. No sound, no lights came from it. Momentarily she thought of inviting him up to share a glass of wine with her, but figured the farm boy had already turned in for the night.

Reaching the top floor, she flipped through her keys to find the one that open her front door. She was just about to put it in the lock when something stopped her. It was almost like a premonition that something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly what. Standing there, she gave everything the once over. The lock hadn't been tampered with and she didn't hear any sound from the other side of the door. Still she couldn't shake the feeling and it was several more moments before she finally put her key on the lock.

Selina let the door swing open. She didn't enter, but slowly reached around the frame and turned on the lights. She stood just outside scanning everything in her living room. Silently she maneuvered her keys so they stuck out between her fingers when she made a fist. It was an impromptu weapon, but it would do damage. Another few moments passed, but nothing happened. Slowly Selina walked into her apartment, on guard for everything. She was five feet inside the door when it slammed shut behind her. She dropped her groceries and whirled around, holding her fist ready to strike.

"Hello, Miss Kyle."

Selina took everything in at once, the calm, disturbing smile, the open jacket that showed off the cuts covering his skin, the cold, crazy look in his eye and most importantly the large knife in his hand. Victor Zsasz moved slowly in front of the door, block it as an escape. Selina took a step back, wanting to put some room and furniture between them. Zsasz's smile grew at this.

"What are you doing here, Zsasz?" She asked.

"Guess,' he replied.

"Highlights subscription drive?"

"Try again."

"Lost?"

"Jokes, how pointless,' Zsasz replied. "I'm here to liberate you Miss Kyle."

"Who are you Betty Friedan now?"

Zsasz pushed himself off the door with his shoulders, holding the knife in front of him. Selina backed up again, putting the couch between them.

"All your glib talk is pointless with me, Miss Kyle,' he said. "I'm being paid to find the thief that stole from Carmine Falcone."

"You think I did that?' She asked.

His smile got a little wider.

"I don't care if you did or not."

"You're fucking crazy."

He stopped and opened his jacket with his off hand. He had no shirt on and Selina could see the many, many cuts that covered his chest. He pointed the tip of his knife just above his heart.

"This is the spot I'll put your mark,' he said. "Once I've liberated you from this world."

"Ah, and it's not even Valentine's Day,' Selina replied.

"The more you struggle against the inevitable, the more I'm going to enjoy this, Miss Kyle."

"Then prepare to enjoy this a lot."

"Oh, I will, I definitely will."

He lunged at her, surprisingly fast. Selina managed to avoid his blade, spinning and delivering a roundhouse kick to his face. Blood splattered from where her boot connected with his cheek. Zsasz stepped back and slowly reached up with his fingertips. He rubbed them in the blood and then looked at them. His smile hadn't left his face, as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. His eyes seemed to get just a bit wilder when he looked at her again.

Selina kept her eyes on him the whole time, but she as trying to maneuver away from him so she could reach some of the weapons she had stashed around her apartment. Sliding up against the bookcase, her fingers frantically searched the knife she hid among the books.

"It's not there, Miss Kyle,' Zsasz said. "While you were gone, I looked for weapons. I think I'll keep the knife, it's very nice."

He was moving towards her again, the knife slashing the air closer and closer to her face. Selina dodged, counter attacking; yet giving ground. Zsasz pressed forward, not giving her a moment's pause. She landed several shots, but he had the endurance that only the truly deranged had. His knife kept getting closer. It sliced through her blouse, a thin trickle of blood starting just above her bicep.

"Can you feel it, Miss Kyle? The end is getting closer every moment,' he said to her. "All your struggles, all your dreams mean nothing. Life is but an illusion, a pointless illusion. You'll see it just before the end. In that last instant as your life fades, you'll finally see the truth and be liberated. That's my gift to you."

"I prefer jewelry,' she replied.

"I wasn't giving you a choice." He said, the smile slipping and his voice deadly calm. It was so cold and lifeless, for a moment Selina actually considered him inhuman. No, she stopped herself, he's just a man, a sick, twisted man that thinks she can't defend herself. She'd met lots of men like that in her short life. They found out how wrong they were and Zsasz would too.

As Zsasz lunged at her again, Selina dodged his knife and flipped over the couch. She moved effortlessly to her coat rack and reached for the handle she knew would be there. Zsasz turned at the snapping sound. Selina had her whip in her hand and now she was smiling.

"Seems you missed this one, Zsasz,' she said. "Come on, let's do this."

* * *

to Be Continued ...


	17. Chapter 17

Breath Baby Part Two

_Tyger, tyger, burning bright _

_In the forests of the night _

_What immortal hand or eye _

_Could frame thy fearful symmetry?_

Gotham

The whip licked at his ear and then bit. Zsasz grimaced as his lobe split and a trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck. This would have given a normal, rational man pause, but he wasn't a normal, rational man. He moved forward, knife at the ready. Selina smiled, but knew she was still at a disadvantage. The whip, along with her skill set were better served by more space. Her apartment, while comfortable, was too cluttered and hindered movement. Typically that wouldn't be a problem, but in a fight with a madman it was. Most of her gear was hidden away in the bedroom and momentarily she thought of going for it, but it would take too long and he would be on her.

The window was her best option. She just had to keep him at bay long enough to get it open. Keeping the whip constantly moving in a serpentine pattern, she tried to randomize her strikes, keeping him off balance. She was doing damage, just not enough.

"When I catch you, Miss Kyle, I'm going to cut those fingers holding the whip off one by one,' Zsasz hissed. "Slowly, so you'll have time to beg for each one."

"I don't beg, the men do or haven't you heard about me, Zsasz,' Selina replied.

"I heard you had a smart mouth,' he stated. "I think I'll take your tongue as a souvenir."

He lunged at her, the knife just missing her leg. She somersaulted over the large chair and made for the window. She got it unlocked, but he was moving again. Blindly she whirled and swung the whip, catching him around the throat. Giving it a yank she ripped it back, spinning him around and leaving a nasty mark on his throat.

"You bitch!" He growled. His hand moved instinctively up to his throat, feeling the raw, ripped flesh.

"Sticks and stones, Zsasz,' she said, opening the window and starting to climb out onto the fire escape. The rain hit hard against her skin, and slowed her for just a moment. He lunged again only this time his knife found her calf. Selina winced, but didn't stop. She kicked at him, dislodging the knife and started to climb to the roof. The rain was coming down in buckets. They were both instantly soaked, the rain blinding them as the wind kicked up. He was right behind her, pressing her hard. She could feel the blood running down her leg and into her soaked shoe. He'd gotten mostly muscle, but that caused each step to feel like agony.

She made it to the roof moments before him. She briefly thought of running, taking off over the rooftops, but the wound wasn't going to allow her the usual jumps. The rain wasn't any help, either, as she had to blink to keep it out of her eyes. She was going to have to stand and fight if she wanted to survive.

* * *

Gotham – the Warehouse district

_She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright_

Deadshot made it to the ground floor, and could feel the first shudder of the building starting to collapse. The old beams and supports were buckling under the weight of the top two floors. He'd given it a little help, firing at some of the central supports on his way down. He wasn't sure if Dinah and the other woman had survived, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Jumping in the car, he started it and headed back out of the building, reversing his course though his own gauntlet. Flicking on the window shield wipers to full, he gunned the car through the rain.

He deactivated the sensors, but there was nothing he could do about the trip wires. If Mrs. Lance was alive, he knew she was too close to just let him go. She'd follow and that's exactly what he was hoping for. His original plan was to catch her coming in, but that hadn't worked out so well. It was still a good plan, he thought, so why not just reverse it? The automatic guns were still set; he would just catch her on the way out. Now he just needed to make it himself.

Dinah and Ev had plunged through the window just in time to avoid the whole top floor collapsing in on them. It was momentarily save, as then they were falling in the pouring rain. Dinah made a desperate attempted to grab the twisted remains of the building's fire escape. The rain wasn't helping this and her hand slipped. She tried again and this time held on, even while reaching out for Ev. Stopping Ev's momentum was a jolt and for a moment Dinah though she'd dislocated her shoulder. She didn't let go, but instead used the momentum of grabbing Ev to swing them both closer to the building.

"Thanks,' Ev said as they landed on the rickety fire escape.

"Your welcome,' Diana replied. She brushed her wet hair from her face. As she rotated her shoulder, she glanced over at Ev. "You know you might want to consider dropping a few pounds too, honey."

Ev smiled as she looked at her wounded leg.

"So you're still pissed about the fat ass comment?" She said with a laugh.

"You're an ass," Dinah grumbled.

The roar of a car cut off Ev's response. Deadshot burst from the first floor garage, racing away. He leaned out the window and took some shots at Dinah and Ev as he escaped.

"This guy is really starting to piss me off,' Ev shouted, as she dove for cover.

"Join the club,' Dinah replied. She held on as another tremor shook the building. She knew it was only a matter of time before the whole place came tumbling down. She didn't plan on being there when it did. Dinah also didn't plan on letting Deadshot get away. She glanced over and saw Ev was still bleeding, but it didn't look too serious.

"Why don't you hang back? I'll take care of him." She suggested.

"And miss all the fun? No way,' Ev replied. "That prick shot me, I want him as much as you."

"You're injured,' Dinah pointed out.

"I'll survive."

"Don't be hero, Ev."

"That's funny, coming from you."

"Oh, shut up."

"He's getting away,' Ev replied. "You want to stay here and argue or get that ass in gear and go after him?"

Dinah was going to argue, but she wanted Deadshot more. Grumbling to herself she turned and started after him. She could feel Ev right behind her.

"You know some guy's like a girl with a big ass,' Ev teased. "Farm boys do I hear."

"Keep it up and your leg won't be the only thing with a bullet wound,' Dinah snapped.

* * *

Gotham

_No man is an island,  
Entire of itself,  
Every man is a piece of the continent,  
A part of the main._

The legend grew with each success. This aided him in his mission, yet he never lost sight that it was only a legend. The myth that Batman saw everything and was everywhere was just that, a myth. He knew underneath it all, he was just a mortal man. In some ways that made what he'd accomplished so far even more impressive. The endless cycle of violence and corruption was finally being challenged and broken. He had done this through the sheer force of his will. Always though, he remembered he was just a man, one man fighting against the tide.

That realization meant he couldn't be everywhere, even if he did know most of what was going on. He had to pick and choose his battles, strike where he would have the most impact. The worst times were when it meant that emotion couldn't play a part of his decision. He was still just a man and had all the desires and wants of every other man. If he let those desires and wants influence what he did, his ultimate goal would never be reached.

Batman knew Zsasz was going to go after Selina Kyle. At the same time, the first all out skirmish between gangs was going down. It was all being orchestrated by another rival for power, but that didn't make this clash any less deadly. The logical choice was to stop the gang war. That was what he was doing. Moving relentlessly through the rival factions, pinpointing his attacks towards the leadership to end this as quickly as possible, Batman listened anxiously for the sound of police sirens. He would keep a lid on this until they arrived. It was the obvious choice but that didn't make it the easy one. He was just a man underneath it all and he hoped he wouldn't regret this decision. If it turned out badly he would still have made the right decision, but it would be the man that suffered not the myth.

* * *

Gotham

_Revery is a solitude in which__  
__We compose these propositions, torn by dreams,__By the terrible incantations of defeats__  
__And by the fear that defeats and dreams are one.__The whole race is a poet that writes down__  
__The eccentric propositions of its fate._

Where the last bit of the city met the first embrace of the sea, some answers had been revealed. Not all, but enough to allow him to rejoin the world. He wasn't a time bomb just waiting to go off and kill innocents. Clark had found some control over his new abilities, not nearly enough to feel comfortable with them, but enough to know he could master them.

They frightened him far more than anything in his life. Clark could imagine what he might be able to do with them and how easily things could get out of hand. Most would have expected him to feel joy at these amazing abilities he had, but that was because it wasn't happening to them. How easily would the temptation be to use them? Or mis-use them? What or who could really stop you?

The curse of power, any kind is the ability to impose your will, your beliefs, and your idea of right and wrong on others, whether they agree with you or not. Once you start it seems so easy to rationalize your actions. You're doing it for the greater good or upholding the law or traditional values or a thousand other rationalizations. The ones that never have a hint of doubt about how right they are, are always the most dangerous. They start to believe they alone have been given some secret universal truth and it's their duty and mission to bring about that truth. Those that disagree with them, well, they simple don't understand. You can't argue or disagree with someone that believes they know the one, universal truth. You have to either accept what they believe or you become the enemy. There can be no middle ground with someone that believes they alone have been given the one universal truth.

Clark was an alien, but for his whole life he'd lived as the son of Martha and Jonathan Kent of Kansas. He was a Midwest farmer's son in all things that really mattered. The jacket he had on was a barn coat that his parents had bought him as a 16th birthday gift. It had been huge on him, but Ma Kent had said that was so he had room to grow into it. It was still a little big. He alsways took that as a reminder that he had room to grow and much to learn. Being from the Midwest wasn't to say he was naïve or stupid, just that he'd been raised believe in humility and that no one has all the answers. Imposing your will on someone turns him or her into a slave and you into a tyrant. So for him these new emerging abilities weren't some new toy, but a grave responsibility.

Oddly enough it was something he'd learned in a poetry class that seemed to resonant with him the most at the moment. _Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes. It's not his words; it's his deeds that show a man's true character._ These abilities were a test of Clark's character. It wasn't a matter of what he said or believed, but what he did with them. That was something he didn't take lightly.

He knew he wasn't going to find all the answers he sought tonight standing in the rain at the end of the city. At least he'd found some, enough that he could head back to the life he was just starting to build. Pulling up the hood on his barn coat, Clark started walking back towards his apartment. The rain seemed to take little notice of him.

* * *

Gotham – Warehouse District

_Rise like Lions after slumber_

_In unvanquishable number,_

_Shake your chains to earth like dew_

_Which in sleep had fallen on you_

Dinah and Ev were on foot, but the alley leading to the warehouse was narrow, so they could see Deadshot in the distance. Driving a car slowly in wasn't a problem, driving one out at top speed was. The rain made everything slick and limited visibility. He banged into trashcans, dumpsters and all sorts of refuse that had accumulated in the abandon passage. It made it much slowly going then it should have and gave Dinah and Ev a chance at catching him before he disappeared.

The rumble started to get louder behind them, as the old abandon warehouse finally surrendered to the inevitable. The supports on the top floor failed and then it was a chain reaction with the rest. Dust and debris filled the air, mixing with the hard rain. It caused Deadshot to slow down as the car was engulfed in it. Dinah and Ev chocked and coughed, but didn't stop. They were running after Deadshot, but also running for their lives. As the old warehouse collapsed, it put pressure on the ones around it. All of them had seen better days and it didn't take much for them to start falling.

Deadshot finally saw the exit to the alley and two motorcycles sitting to the side. He'd hit the trip wires, but thankfully the guns were firing behind him, as they were positioned for someone entering, not exiting. Deliberately, he swerved and smashed his car into the wall and in effect blocking the way. He climbed out the passenger side, tossed the keys and then ran to the two motorcycles. They were the one's Dinah and Ev had arrived at. He jumped on the larger of the two and started it. With a smile under his mask, Deadshot rearmed his sensors. His shooting gallery, gauntlet was now operational, and Dinah and Ev were in the middle of it. With a wave, he gunned the motorcycle and took off into the night.

"That's my bike!" Ev shouted. "That fucker stole my bike!"

Dinah tackled Ev, knocking her behind one of the dumpsters just as the first bullets started ripping through the air.

"Get off me, Jeez,' Ev complained.

"I saved your life, a thank you would be in order you know,' Dinah replied.

"Thanks,' Ev offered. "Seriously though, how much to you weight?"

"Isn't the fact that we're being shot at enough for you?" Dinah growled. "You want me to kick the shit out of you too?"

"Just kidding," Ev replied. "You need to get a sense of humor, Di."

"I need to stay alive right now."

"Well, yeah, that too,' Ev admitted.

Using the dumpster as a shield, they picked their way through the shooting gallery. Bullets seemed to be coming from every angle. The rain continued. The buildings behind them were starting to fall. It all forced them forward, taking risks they normally wouldn't have taken. Dinah felt a bullet nick her shoulder and then another brush her hips. The bullets were getting closer and closer, as now both Ev and Dinah were bleeding. The seconds were ticking away, as it seemed danger was moving towards them from every direction. Dinah felt responsible. Ev was here because of her when she didn't need to be.

Putting aside the wisecracks, Ev had been there when Dinah desperately needed a friend. She wasn't going to let them die like this, so Dinah acted. Her Canary Cry was something she had never been able to control, but now it offered a way to neutralize the guns. It was a desperate situation or Dinah would have never attempted it. The risk was she would bring down the buildings all around them on their head. The alternative was the slow death being cut to pieces by Deadshot's gauntlet. Dinah didn't over think it; she just let it come naturally.

Ev dropped down lower, covering her ears. She stayed like that for a moment, almost afraid she would be deaf when she finally uncovered. When she finally did, Ev didn't hear the sound of gunfire. For just a split second she thought Dinah had blown out her eardrums, but then the sound of the rain and the rumble of the buildings behind them came to her.

Dinah turned and looked at Ev.

"Can you hear me?" She anxiously asked.

"Yeah, a little warning next time, please,' Ev replied. "Oh, and thanks again."

Dinah smiled at her, a sense of relief washing over.

"You don't want to hug it out, do you?" Ev joked.

"You couldn't just leave it at thank you, could you?" Dinah replied with a look.

"Where's the fun in that?

"Come on, we need to get after Deadshot,' Dinah said.

"You sure your bike will hold both of us,' Ev said as they started climbing over the car.

"You're just not going to let that go, are you?" Dinah replied. "You weight as much as I do."

"Please, I'm a rail compared to you, Dinah,' Ev said dismissively. "I've got curves but you have them to spare. Ask your farm boy next time you see him."

Dinah didn't reply, but a rather sad look passed over her features. She shook it off, concentrating on the moment. Dinah jumped on her bike and Ev climbed on behind her. They tore off after Deadshot at top speed.

* * *

Gotham – East End

_Our throats were tight as tourniquets,_  
_Our feet were bound with splints, but now,_  
_Like convalescents intimate and gauche_

Soaked to the skin and bleeding, Selina was breathing hard, yet she continued to fight. Zsasz had suffered more damage, but he had the reserves of a maniac fueling him. He kept up the constant pressure, never giving her a moment to rest. Selina dodge his blade again, delivering a counter kick to his ribs that should have broken them. He grunted, but kept moving towards her.

"You see it now, don't you Miss Kyle,' he shouted over the rain. "You climbed all the way up from the gutter, but in the end it will all be meaningless. When I liberate you from this world, you'll finally see. It will be painful, I promise you that, but in the end you'll finally understand."

"You're wrong, Zsasz, I didn't climb, I fought my way out,' Selina replied. "Everyday growing up I had to fight the perverts and pedophiles, the sadists and users and even the sick twists like you, Zsasz. I've lived on the streets and done things I wished I hadn't, but I never gave up. I'm not going to start tonight."

Zsasz had made a mistake bringing up where Selina had come from. In his warped way of thinking, it should have reinforced the futility of the situation. What it had done was make Selina angry. It brought back all the pain and misery she'd seen in her young life, all the hardships she'd had to endure. She wished things had been as easy as a climb, but they weren't. She'd scratched and clawed her way, fighting everyone that tried to hold her down to get where she was today. She wasn't going to surrender to him tonight on this rooftop.

A right cross with all her strength landed, driving him back with its force. A spinning heel kick followed, knocking him to the ground. He waved the knife dangerously, as he slowly got to his feet. He looked into her eyes and didn't see the accustomed fear he was used to. She should have been afraid.

* * *

Gotham

_The spine is a bit red; and the whole thing has a smell_  
_Strangely horrible; you notice especially_  
_Odd details you'd have to see with a magnifying glass_

Deadshot weaved his way into traffic. He could hear the buildings collapsing behind him. Later he might go back to see if he could find the bodies, but he doubted it. It had been harder than he'd imagined. Dinah Lance was better than he thought. He would have liked to look her in the eye when he ended it. That was where the real victory and satisfaction came in, when you looked into the prey's eyes and they knew it was over. She would have been such a satisfying kill.

Dinah didn't slow down as she entered traffic. Horns began to honk, but she paid them no notice. She was going to catch Deadshot. That was the only thought in her mind as she opened the throttle and raced forward.

"There!" Ev shouted in her ear, pointing up ahead.

Dinah saw him and a small smile came to her lips. Got you, she thought to herself. Weaving her way faster and faster through the traffic, they were gaining on him. Dinah saw him turn and catch sight of them. Deadshot revved the engine and poured on the speed.

"Shit, he's seen us and running,' Dinah yelled. As she continued to maneuver them through the now stopped cars and trucks, Dinah felt Ev moving behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Just one shot, that's all I need,' Ev replied.

Dinah jumped the bike onto the sidewalk to make it around the traffic jam, even as she felt Ev starting to rise up behind her. When her leg wrapped around Dinah's shoulder, she was sure they were going to crash.

"Are you crazy?" Dinah shouted. "Get your boney knees away from me before we wreck!"

"Just keep it steady,' Ev replied, taking careful aim and then firing.

Deadshot felt the impact of her shot hit him in the shoulder. He started to slump forward but managed to keep the bike up. Almost on instinct he brought his gun arm around and returned fire.

"I got him!" Ev excitedly roared. Dinah was about to reply, when she felt Ev give a jerk and start to fall backwards.

"Ev!"

Dinah desperately reached back to hold Ev from falling, and at the same time tried to keep the bike up. As she grasped her friend's arm, Dinah felt something other than the cold rain. It was hot and thick and she knew it was blood.

"Ev! Come on, speak to me, Ev!" Dinah yelled. She managed to get the bike to a stop and frantically turned to her friend. Ev's eyes were open in shock. There was a bullet hole in her shoulder and blood was pouring out of it.

"He steals my bike and then shoots me,' Ev said. "He's really starting to piss me off big time."

Dinah had to laugh in relief.

"God you are such an ass,' she replied.

Ev swung her leg over the bike and brought her hand up to her shoulder.

"Fuck that hurts," she groaned.

"It's a bullet wound, it's supposed to."

"Duh," Ev replied, making a face. "Look, you keep after him, I can't ride like this."

"I'm not leaving you,' Dinah protested. "You're hurt, I've got to take you to a hospital."

"No, too risky,' Ev said with a shake of her head. "There would be too many questions that neither of us wants to answer. The bullet went clean through, I'll be okay for a while. You get Deadshot and take him down, Dinah."

"Ev, I'm not just going to leave you here,' Dinah exclaimed.

"I'll catch up, promise, but don't loss him."

"Ev, I can't!"

"Yes, you can, not get that fat ass in gear and catch the son of a bitch!" Ev shouted. "Go!

Dinah was torn what to do. She didn't want to leave her friend like this, but that's what she was basically ordering her to do. The look in Ev's eyes told Dinah she wasn't going to win this argument with her. Reluctantly, Dinah sighed and then revved the engine.

"Get to a doctor,' she said. "Don't do anything stupid, please?"

"Who? Me?" Ev replied with a smile. "Perish the thought."

"Now I'm really worried."

"Just go, will you?"

Dinah glanced at her one more time before racing off. Ev watched her go. Once she was out of sight, she slumped back against the brick wall. The rain ran down her face obscuring the tears from the pain. Glancing around her, Ev spied a parking garage. Even through the pain she smiled and pushed herself off of the wall.

Deadshot cursed but the rain swallowed it up. The dark haired bitch had hit him. He could feel the bullet wound burning in the muscles of his shoulder. He couldn't believe they had survived his gauntlet again. This assignment was rapidly turning to shit and he knew the smart move was just to drop it completely. That was the smart move, but Deadshot didn't always do the smart thing. He had a code he lived by. If the money was paid, he did the job no matter what.

They hadn't put a time limit on it, though. With being shot he wasn't at his best and against two that could prove fatal. He needed to regroup, get the bullet wound taken care of and come up with another plan. He'd found Dinah Lance once he could find her again. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Deadshot turned the bike towards the expressway and zoomed up the ramp.

Dinah wiped her wet, stray blond hair from her eyes and shot through traffic. She was ready for anything, including Deadshot waiting for her anywhere up ahead. Ev's getting shot played on Dinah's mind for getting her involved, but it also added to her determination to end this tonight. A bullet whizzed by her head, causing her to swerve and duck for cover. Glancing up, Dinah saw Deadshot on the expressway above her. She knew she would loss him if she went all the way to the on ram and that was something she was not going to do. A quick glance around, Dinah revved the engine and took off for a set of stairs that led up to a museum. It was closed so there weren't too many people around, but the ones that were scattered as she came flying up the stairway.

She was airborne for a moment and the came to a jarring halt. She spun the bike around and headed off parallel to the expressway, only she wasn't using the streets anymore. The rain had made the grass slick and muddy, so Dinah slid and nearly fell, but managed to keep the bike upright as she pursued Deadshot. Gunning it she took another risk and made a jump, landing on the elevated subway tracks. They ran below and parallel to the expressway for several blocks. It was a hard, bumpy ride, but she gave the bike all the gas it could take.

Deadshot blew passed the cars on the expressway, ducking in and out, changing lanes constantly. He could hear sirens in the distance, but the police were the least of his worries. He'd missed a perfect shot at Dinah, something he rarely did. It must have been the gunshot that threw his aim off, but it rattled him. Behind him he heard car horns and the sound of brakes being applied, cars sliding on the wet pavement. Glancing over his shoulder, Deadshot saw Dinah come flying through the air, seemingly out of nowhere and land 100 yards behind him. Somehow she managed to control the motorcycle and stop her momentum from taking her over the other side.

"Shit!" He shouted gunning the bike he was on for all it was worth. Who the fuck is this chick, he couldn't help wondering. He'd already taken out her pain in the ass friend, why wouldn't this one give up? Did she have a death wish? Not taking his eyes of the road, Deadshot sprayed the expressway behind him with bullets. He could hear the sound of crashes over the rain, but then the sound of the other motorcycle followed. It was a full on sprint now. He opened the throttle to the limit, racing off into the dark, rainy night.

Dinah followed him, weaving her way through the crashed cars and then zooming off. He headed for one of the exit ramps into the Narrows. He probably thought he could lose her among the crowded, winding streets, but he was fooling himself. Dinah could hear the police sirens in the distance and knew they were heading towards her and Deadshot. It was just one more complication she had to deal with.

Once they were on the city streets again, Dinah knew Deadshot had an advantage she didn't. He wasn't worried about civilians and would continue to fire at her no matter what. Dinah could have returned fire, but even at this late hour the streets were filled with people. That also eliminated using her Canary Cry. Part of her was almost glad of this, as she had so little control of it, there was no telling what damage she might do if she let it loose.

As they roared through intersection after intersection, avoiding the braking sliding cars, they passed so many people that were just blurs in their peripheral vision. At one corner a young man was standing wearing a barn coat with the hood pulled up against the rain, waiting for the signal to walk. He watched as first Deadshot raced by and then Dinah followed seconds later. He stood staring as they disappeared fast into the night. He was just about to step off the sidewalk, when a late model black sedan came barreling down the street blowing its horn. He jumped back as it zoomed by him. The young man found his feet turning in the same directions. He started walking and then jogging and finally he was running after them.

To Be Continued …


	18. Chapter 18

B Breath B Part 3

_At midnight all the agents  
And the superhuman crew  
Come out and round up everyone  
That knows more than they do  
Then they bring them to the factory  
Where the heart-attack machine  
Is strapped across their shoulders  
And then the kerosene  
Is brought down from the castles  
By insurance men who go  
Check to see that nobody is escaping  
To Desolation Row._

If you've ever stepped on the gas pedal and kept pushing it down just to see, just to see how fast you could go, than you understand. Maybe it's a bump in the road you normally don't even notice, but this time for that brief moment none of your tires are touching the earth. Your heart starts to race and your foot instinctively eases up. After you're back to normal speed, you realize how close you came to the edge between control and out of control.

* * *

Gotham

Dinah had the throttle wide open as she chased Deadshot through the crowded streets of the city. The rainwater churned up by her tires a constant reminder conditions weren't ideal for what she was doing. Like some extreme athlete she seemed compelled to push things to the very edge, perhaps even just a bit over the edge. The reasons driving her were varied, from the anger over being targeted by those she used to trust and serve to Ev being shot trying to help her. Deadshot became the focus for all the pain and rage she'd been dealing with these last months.

She'd run away from that life, yet it still haunted everything she did, from her relationships or lack there of, to how she still viewed the world around her. That was the true cost of what they'd done to her. Like a soldier that had seen the worst of war, she now struggled not to see the regular world through that same lens. The lies, the deceptions, the betrayals had left her distrustful and skittish around nearly everyone. She was always looking for some hidden agenda, some ulterior motive to even the most normal, benign interactions. It had even cost her a second chance at a romantic relationship.

None of those doubts and fears came into play with Deadshot. For once the situation was exactly what it appeared to be. It was simple, black and white, he was sent to kill her and she was damn sure that wasn't going to happen. She would take him down for the attempt, but also to send a message to those behind him; she wasn't playing their games anymore. They needed to cut their loses and allow her to try and move on.

* * *

Deadshot felt a rising sense of unease. The rain was making everything tenuous. The assignment had turned to shit. He was sure now he hadn't been told everything. He was told Dinah Lance was a pro that had flown the reservation and needed to be eliminated. It should have been a straightforward job. Nothing since he started had been straightforward. There was no mention of a second woman in the Intel. He'd hit them both with damaging shots, yet they didn't break off like a pro would, they kept coming.

Miss Lance was pushing him into taking larger and larger risks. This insane motorcycle chase was too fast for the conditions. He could feel the wheels threatening to slip out from under him at any moment. His damaged shoulder was losing feeling, while the blood hadn't stopped oozing out. The closer they got to the heart of the city the heavier traffic became and that only made everything more dangerous. Police sirens seemed to be moving closer from every direction.

Deadshot couldn't afford to take his eyes off the street in front of him, so he fired wildly behind, hoping it hit Dinah or another vehicle that would slow her down. He heard the screech of tires and the sound of horns, but the motorcycle engine kept coming. If anything it was getting closer. They were both on that razor's edge and she kept pushing. She was forcing him to gamble, to take it just a little bit further, closer to out of control than a rational man wanted to be.

* * *

Ev screamed obscenities out of the window at her fellow drivers, basically urging them to get the fuck out of the way. Her breathing was ragged, as she clutched her shoulder trying to stem the blood flowing from her wound. She knew at this rate she wasn't going to catch up to Dinah and Deadshot. Motorcycles on city streets had advantages automobiles didn't. Ev needed to change the game if she was going to be a player in it. Cutting the wheel hard to the left, she took out a parking meter, leaped onto the sidewalk, plowed through a wrought iron fence and made her own shortcut through one of Gotham's parks.

This had all started as just helping a friend out, but over the course of events it had changed into something deadly serious. Deadshot had wounded her twice along with trying to bring an entire building down around her and Dinah. He'd made it personal. Ev knew how to hold a grudge and now had one with Deadshot. Churning up the wet grass and dirt, she floored the car, heading across the park at top speed.

* * *

Dinah weaved her bike back and forth, avoiding the oncoming traffic and giving Deadshot no easy target. She was gaining on him, yet knew that only meant he was more dangerous. She raised one of her guns, but there was too much traffic to risk missing him. Her bike wobbled and threatened to go down. The gun slipped from her fingers as she madly grabbed the handlebars trying to remain upright. Her foot dragged along the asphalt, kicking up a spray of water, yet somehow she stayed vertical. Those few seconds had dropped her a little further behind, so she opened it up wide and tried making up the difference.

* * *

Deadshot leaned hard into the turn, his boot extended along the pavement. He prayed the tires would bite into the asphalt and not slid out from under him. Somehow he managed to make it, but mere seconds later he hear Dinah follow. He ventured a look back, raising his gun to take the kill shot. The sound of renting metal against metal made him snap his heard around just in time to see a black sedan come flying out of nowhere and land hard directly in his path. There was no time to stop and he was forced to lay the bike down hard on the blacktop. The black sedan smashed into a parked car and flipped over on its side. Deadshot felt the street tearing at his clothes, ripping them and the flesh below to shreds.

* * *

Dinah had been just as caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of the car as Deadshot. There was no time to use the brakes so her bike went down as well. She tried to roll with her momentum, but the blacktop was tearing at her jacket and flesh. She managed to flip over and then regain her feet, but could feel the severe road burn all along her left side. Moving towards Deadshot, Dinah glanced at the car and realized who had been driving it. Ev, that idiot Dinah thought and as if to confirm this, she saw a tattooed arm slowly emerge from the passenger side window.

* * *

Deadshot's entire body felt like it was on fire. The blacktop had ripped away large parts of his costume and his skin was bleeding and raw in so many places. He saw the tattooed arm too. Cursing her, he fired a shot at the car's gas tank. It went up in the next moment. He turned to fire at Dinah, but her foot slammed into his arm, pinning it to the ground. She held her gun inches away from his face.

* * *

"Bang, you lose,' she said. The look in her eyes was hard and dangerous. The thinly concealed rage was hard to miss. There was murder in her eyes as she looked at him. It would be so easy and so satisfying to just pull the trigger and end his life. It almost seemed too good for him and briefly Dinah consider letting her Canary Cry loose, directed completely at him. It would tear his flesh from his bones, before they too shattered and crumbled to dust under the force.

Dinah paused. Her hunger for vengeance was so palpable, yet another part of her was screaming to stop. A war was raging inside her. If she did this, killed him now, she would be exactly what those she had run from wanted to her to be all along, a cold blooded killer. Deadshot was beaten, it was over, to kill him now would be murder, plain and simple. It would make everything she'd tried to do in the past few months moot. They would win and she would have become exactly what they wanted her to be all along.

That wasn't who she was, she told herself. She wasn't a killer, an animal like Deadshot that worked for anyone that paid. She'd joined the agency to help make a difference, not become just another part of the problem. With Ev's help she had beaten their assassin and now it was over. Reaching down she pulled the gun from Deadshot's arm and then stepped back. He remained on the ground, looking up at her.

"You're a pro, Deadshot,' she said. "You gave it your best shot and lost. It's over now. I'm not going to kill you, but you are going back to jail."

He slumped back, as if understand the end had been reached.

"Fuck!"

Dinah heard the familiar exclamation from behind her. She turned towards the burning car and saw movement. A smile came to her face as she realized somehow Ev had survived. Dinah turned and rushed towards her to help get her out of the wreck. She didn't see Deadshot reach behind his back and pull out another gun.

He fired.

Dinah felt the impact as the bullet hit her back between her shoulder blades. She stumbled and fell. She tried to get up but her legs didn't seem to want to comply. Rolling over she stared up into the rain, a look of shock on her beautiful features. Her breathing was coming in gasps. All around her sounds seemed to be amplified. In the distance she could hear sirens. She thought she heard seemingly far away someone familiar cry out 'NO!" but it was probably just her own mind screaming it. A littler closer she heard a dragging sound, yet over all of it there was the constant din of the rain.

* * *

Somehow Deadshot was standing over her.

"You're right, Miss Lance, we're both pros. You won,' he rasped. "I should let it go and feel lucky you didn't kill me. I can't do that. It goes against the code I've always lived by, but my pride won't let it go. I'm going to kill you and your friend. If it means anything to you, when I do I'll have lost everything. I always thought I was different then the rest, that I had rules and a code I lived by. That's how I've been able to do the things I do. When I kill you two that will all be just another lie, only now I won't be able to deny it. That's what this is costing me, Miss Lance. Oh, and the phrase is Bang, you're dead."

* * *

As he pulled the trigger a hand grabbed his arm and made him miss. The fingers felt like a steel vice as they pried the gun from him. He turned to see a large young man in a rain soaked barn coat

"You're not killing anyone."

A backhand sent Deadshot to the pavement. He was out before he hit the ground.

Clark had been so shocked to see first Deadshot and then Dinah race by him, he hadn't reacted right away. It was when he saw Ev tear by in the car that his body finally seemed to be able to move. He began running, picking up speed with each step. The delay had cost him, as they were already out of sight. It was Ev's impromptu shortcut that got him back on track. When he arrived he saw Dinah standing over Deadshot with a gun pointed down at him. His first instincts were to stop her from killing him, but with each moment she hesitated he waited. Knowing her just a little bit, he wondered if she wasn't going through some sort of internal struggle. When she walked away, he felt a sense of relief that what he'd thought he'd seen in her that first night was true. H let out a sigh and lowered his head in relief.

The sound of Deadshot's gun going off was a shock that ran through his system. He watched Dinah fall in horror. Clark had never seen anyone shot, let alone murdered right front of him in all his young life. His delayed reaction was the same, as most would have had. It seemed unreal, like something out of movie. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around what was happening right in front of his eyes.

It was when Deadshot got up and moved over to Dinah that his body and mind seemed to work again. He stopped him, but his immediate concern was Dinah. She looked so pale in the rain. There was so much blood. He could hear sirens getting closer, but he didn't care. He gently knelt down to her, feeling for a pulse and thankfully found one. He was just starting to slip his arms under her, when he heard a groan coming from the burning car. Having no time to think, he exhaled, using his new found ability to put out the fire. He moved rapidly and found Ev in almost as bad of shape as Dinah. He set her down next to Dinah.

They were both bleeding and there was so much blood, it was beyond anything he'd ever dealt with before. He needed to get them to a hospital. He knew she was a fugitive, but saving her was all he cared about at the moment. As gently as he could, Clark lifted both Dinah and Ev. As he turned a voice came from the darkness.

* * *

"Put them in my car."

From the shadows stepped Batman. Clark instinctively stepped back, as his previous experience with the hero hadn't been a good one.

"They need medical attention,' he offered. "I've got to get them to a hospital."

"She's a fugitive,' Batman replied. "They'll arrest her on sight. Those minutes will cost her. Put them in my car and I'll make sure they get the best possible care."

Clark didn't know what to do.

"I won't turn her in," Batman growled. "We're losing time. If you want to save them put them in my car, Superman. You're going to have to trust me."

"Why should I?'

"I give you my word."

Clark looked at the man in the shadows for just the briefest moments and then slowly nodded. He began moving towards the strange vehicle that so recently had chased him. As if by some silent command, the hatch slid open. Clark set Dinah and Ev gently down on the seat, the concern plain on his face.

"I'll do everything I can,' Batman said, placing his hand on Clark's shoulder. "You have my word on it."

Clark nodded. Batman turned, as the sirens were very close now

"Now about you, Superman,' he said. As he turned back he found himself alone on the street. "So that's what that feels like."

* * *

Gotham

Selina wiped the rain from her eyes. Zsasz stood opposite her, bleeding but still with that wild crazy look in his eyes. He had slipped through her defenses several times, cutting her repeatedly. None of them alone were life threatening, but the accumulation of blood lose and the energy she had already expended were taking their toll. Selina felt her strength diminishing. While she had delivered far more punishment to him, he was like someone on PCP, almost impervious to the pain.

"We're rapidly approaching the denouement, Miss Kyle,' Zsasz coldly said to her. "A common gutter snipe like you probably doesn't even know what that means."

"Go fuck yourself,' Selina replied. "Do you know what that means, Zsasz?"

He lunged at her, his knife thrusting at her throat. Selina twisted her body and used his momentum to throw him across the rooftop. He screamed in rage as he got back to his feet. Selina was standing right in front of him, breathing hard. His legs wobbled, but he was almost vibrating with rage.

"I'm going to cut your heart out!" he shouted. He started to move again, but Selina's leg shot out kicking him in the chest. He stumbled back and realized he was standing at the edge of the building. He struggled to maintain his balance and then felt her grab the front of his jacket. He looked at her and saw that smile he'd come to hate on her lips.

'You were wrong, Zsasz, I do know what denouement means,' she said to. "You're right, it is over. Bye."

Giving him a shove, Selina just watched as he stumbled back, his legs hitting the edge of the rooftop. He screamed as he fell over the side, disappearing from her view. Selina collapsed down to the rooftop, spent and having no fight left in her. She bowed her head, the rain dripping from her wet hair. Slowly she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled towards the door to the stairs.

* * *

Zsasz found himself falling in the rain. He reached out and grabbed for the fire escape, dislocating his shoulder as he jerked to a stop. He bit down so hard against the pain, blood sprayed from his lips. Eyes wild, he slowly pulled himself up and over the railing. He was unhinged even more than usually and began shouted obscenities. Movement from one of the windows caught his attention and he waved his knife menacingly until the curtains closed again.

Dragging himself back towards the roof, he kept up a constant stream of detailed, graphic curses towards Selina about exactly what he was going to do to her when reached her. The most vile and hideous things came from his lips. He slowly moved upwards until a young man was standing in front of him blocking the way.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" Zsasz shouted, swinging his knife at the young man. His hand was stopped and then he watched as fingers took the knife away from him and bent it in two. "I'll kill you!"

Zsasz lunged at the young man, but a hand reached out and grabbed his throat. In the next moment he was suspended away from the fire escape, dangling several floors above the pavement.

"You're going to leave her alone, you hear?" The young man said.

"And what if I don't?' Zsasz spat in reply.

The hand released him and he was falling again. This time he was too far away from the fire escape and he plunged towards the alley pavement. A scream ripped from his chest. There was nothing he could do; it was all futile at this point. Then the young man caught him and held him just above the ground. Zsasz was speechless as he looked at the figure in front of him. The hood on his coat kept his face in darkness, but then his eyes began to glow red.

"If you don't, I won't be here to catch you next time,' the young man said.

"You-You're a demon!" Zsasz gasped.

"As far as you're concerned, yes, I am. Don't go near her again. Is that clear?"

"Ye-Yes-Yes!"

The hand dropped him.

"Now go and hope I don't see you again."

Zsasz started to crawl away and then made it to his feet.

"Run!' The young man shouted, lightly slapping Zsasz on the back as if to spur him on. Even with all his injuries he did his best to run. He didn't look back.

* * *

Clark watched him disappear around the alley corner and then looked up at the roof. He'd walked back to his apartment from the scene of the battle. His mind was filled with so many things. Foremost was concern for Dinah and Ev. They had looked so pale, so lifeless when he placed them in Batman's car. He hoped with all his might they would survive. If they didn't, yes, Deadshot was responsible, but Clark felt a share of the responsibility too.

He had reacted so slowly. He'd just watched as Deadshot fired his gun at Dinah. He'd seen people fire guns before but never at another human being. He had no frame of reference for what he'd witnessed tonight. The world he'd grown up in didn't have high-speed chases and shootouts. People didn't shoot each other in cold blood on a public street. He felt still so naïve about the world he found himself in. He had all these abilities, most of which he still wasn't sure how to completely control; yet he'd stood frozen on the spot as someone he knew was shot. It just reinforced how much he still had to learn. He hoped his inaction didn't cost Dinah or Ev their lives.

His attention was pulled from his inner conflicts as he reached his building. He watched as Zsasz came tumbling over the edge of the roof and this time he didn't freeze. As he landed on fire escape, Clark heard the things coming from Zsasz's lips. In some of the research he'd done on Gotham, Clark had come across a few of the names of Gotham's most notorious criminals. He recognized Zsasz by the cuts all over his body. Anger welled up inside Clark as he heard Zsasz's plans for Selina Kyle. He hadn't been able to stop Deadshot from hurting Dinah, but he could stop Zsasz.

There had been a brief moment after dropping him when he considered not catching him. Clark dismissed this immediately, as that wasn't who he wanted to be. He'd found the tracking device Batman had attached to his back and he slapped it on Zsasz before letting him go. Now that Zsasz was gone, Clark made two leaps and was on the rooftop. Selina was gone. He wasn't sure what he should do. She had obviously been able to take care of herself and probably wouldn't appreciate him poking his nose into her private business. That she had fought off a serial killer like Zsasz told Clark he really knew nothing at all about Miss Kyle.

With nothing else to do, he reluctantly returned to his apartment.

* * *

Gotham

Selina had stripped off her soaked and ruined clothes and climbed slowly into the shower. The water swirling around the drain had turned red with blood. She felt dizzy and feared she would pass out. She was also afraid if she did, she wouldn't wake up. Swaying unsteadily on her feet, she managed to climb out of her shower and make it back to her bedroom. As much as she hated to admit it, Selina needed help. Zsasz's attack and the lose of blood had taken too much out of her.

A hospital was out of the question, as they would alert the authorities. They would ask too many questions and the last thing Selina wanted was more attention from the police. Her first thought was of Batman but she didn't have the strength to go out and find him. He would know what to do but it didn't matter cause she didn't know how to reach him. She tried to think of someone else, but the sad realization was that anyone she sort of trusted lived too far away. Even if she called them there was no guarantee they would get here before she passed out. In desperation her mind turned to the closest person, the farm boy downstairs, Clark Kent. Seeing she had no other options, Selina struggled into a pair of sweats and started for the door.

* * *

Gotham

Clark had changed into some dry clothes, but his mind was still on Dinah. The knock at his door surprised him. He went over and opened it to find Selina Kyle leaning against the frame.

"Hey, farm boy, they teach you anything about first aid out there in the sticks?' She asked with a weak smile. Before he could answer the last bit of her strength gave out and she started to fall. Clark caught her and lifted her into his arms.

"No hospitals, farm boy, no cops, promise me." She whispered. Her eyes managed to look into his.

"I promise,' he softly replied, but she had already lost consciousness. He closed the door with his foot and quickly carried her towards his bedroom.


	19. Chapter 19

Morning – Mourning

Gotham

The rather thread bare, but clean curtain didn't block out enough of the sun's rays. Selina groaned, rolled away from the light and pulled up the covers. Something didn't feel right; the sheet was too stiff, not at all like the silk she'd become accustomed to. The more she moved around the more everything felt off. Finally she reluctantly opened her eyes and knew something was definitely wrong. While this wasn't the first time she'd ever awoken in a strange bedroom, this was certainly the dullest and dumpiest recently. She hurt all over and wondered how much she drank the night before or more importantly who she'd done last night? I must have been really ploughed if I agreed to come back to this place, she thought.

The door suddenly opened and Clark Kent was standing in the doorway holding a small TV tray.

"Glad to see you're finally awake,' he said with a smile. "I was really starting to worry about you."

Oh, God, I slept with the farm boy, Selina bemoaned to herself. I knew it was a mistake talking to him that first time, she thought, he's got clinger written all over him. Some guys just don't grasp the meaning of one night stand, she lamented.

"How are you feeling?' Clark asked, as he sat the tray down next to the bed.

"Like shit,' Selina groaned.

"Um, okay, I guess I'm not surprised,' Clark replied. He hadn't expected quite so blunt an answer. "You were in pretty rough shape last night."

Selina kept the sheet pulled up and squinted at Clark.

"We didn't, you know, did we?" She just had to know.

"Didn't what?' Clark asked, as he went over and opened the curtains.

"Do you have to do that?' Selina groaned, wincing as the sun came flooding in through the window.

"I wanted to check out how the bandages are doing,' Clark replied. "I'll probably need to change them."

"Bandages? What the fuck did we do last night?' Selina gasped.

"You don't remember?"

"Give me a second, " Selina grumbled. "Could you close those curtains, please?"

Clark turned around and closed the curtains, but only halfway. He stood looking at Selina waiting to see if she remembered. Selina tried pushing away the fog that seemed to have settled over her brain and remember what happened. One name came to her and then the whole night came rushing back.

"Zsasz,' she whispered. A small shiver ran through her entire body.

"You mentioned that name last night,' Clark replied. He didn't want to let on he knew too much about what had happened or he would have to explain just how he knew. "You must have had a heck of a fight or something with him."

"Yeah, you could say that,' Selina absently said. She looked up at Clark still curious about another detail of the night before. 'So we didn't?"

"Didn't what?' Clark asked again, not sure what she was meaning.

"Come on, farm boy, do I have to spell it out for you?" Selina groaned. She looked at him again, and frowned. "Yeah, I probably do. We didn't have sex last night, did we?"

"What? No, of course not," Clark immediately replied. He could hide the surprise in his expression.

"Wow, that's a relief," Selina said with a sigh, then gave him a look. 'Why of course not? What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

'Selina, you were injured and unconscious,' Clark explained. "I wouldn't take advantage of you like that."

'Well, thanks,' Selina reluctantly replied. "That was nice of you. You're not going to get very far with Blondie with that attitude, but I appreciate it."

There was an uncomfortable, awkward silence that fell over the room.

"I should get going."

Selina started to get out of the bed, but two things stopped her. One was the overall pain that seemed to throb through her body and the second was Clark rushing over to stop her.

"Oh, God,' Selina groaned, as she slumped back down.

"Stay where you are, you're still weak and injured,' Clark said. Pulling up the comforter over her.

"I'm fine,' Selina protested, giving it another try at getting up.

"No, you're not, besides, um, well, you're, ah, not, um, not wearing anything under the blankets,' Clark said, blushing a bit as he did.

That certainly caught her attention. Selina leaned back against the pillows and looked up at him as she pulled the covers up just a little higher.

"And why exactly am I naked, Clark? I doubt I arrived like that, did I?"

"No, but you were bleeding,' he offered, more embarrassed by the moment. "I had to take your sweats off to get to all the cuts and stop the bleeding. I swear, that's the only reason."

Selina couldn't help smiling as she watched him squirm.

"Did you enjoy the show, Clark?" She teasingly asked.

"It wasn't like that," he quickly said in his defense. "You were hurt. I was just trying to help, that's all.'

He finally looked at her and saw the rather wicked smile on her face.

"That's all,' he repeated.

"Uh-huh."

"It was, I swear."

"Sure it was, I believe you Clark,' Selina said. Her voice had more than a hint of sarcasm in it. The look on his face made her laugh and she slumped back in the bed giggling.

"I was a complete gentleman, I'll have you know,' Clark said, trying to ignore her laughter. This only made her laugh harder. The laughter made her remember how much she hurt and was slowly replaced by groans.

"Are you all right? I didn't think any of the cuts were too deep, but you might have internal injuries I didn't see,' Clark said in concern.

"No, I'll be fine,' Selina managed to say. She hated having to rely on anyone and hated even more feeling weak in front of anyone. Struggling, Selina tried to get out of the bed, but Clark gently stopped her.

"Get out of the way, Clark,' she practically growled at him. " I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help."

"Yes, you do, Selina,' Clark calmly replied. "Everyone needs some help some time. It's Saturday and I'm off from work so I'm offering. Let me help you, Selina. Please?'

She looked up into his eyes and could see he was sincere. She still didn't like the idea of needing help, but as she shifted in the bed, she could feel the pain shoot through her body.

'Please, Selina, let me help,' he softly said again.

The reality of the situation was becoming pretty clear to her, as much as she hated to admit it. She was hurting and the thought of struggling up the steps to her apartment seemed daunting at best. Even if she made it, she would probably have to call someone eventually and that would mean relying on someone else again. She didn't like it, but the best thing would probably be to just stay where she was until she felt a little stronger. At least this way she could limit the people that saw her like this.

"Oh, all right, if it means that much to you, I guess I can let you,' she finally conceded. "This doesn't mean I owe you or anything. I'm just letting you help because you'll probably get all sad on me if I don't."

"Thank you, Selina."

"Your welcome."

Clark smiled to himself as he turned and brought the tray over to the bed.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry or not, but I fixed a little something,' he said.

Selina looked at the tray as he set it down on the bed in front of her.

"An egg, toast and coffee?' She said, looking at him.

"I know, it's not much. I didn't really have much in the way of breakfast food, but there is some homemade preserves I think you'll like," Clark replied. "You don't have to eat it if you're not hungry."

"Well, you went to the effort,' Selina said, feeling a rumble in her stomach. "I guess I could eat something."

Clark cut the top off the hard-boiled egg and steam rose from it. Selina reached for the coffee and took a sip.

"There's salt and pepper, oh, and the preserves are strawberry, I hope you like them. I picked them up from home the last time I was there,' he said. "Here's a napkin."

Selina reached and took it, tucking it up close to her chin without lowering the blankets. She took the salt and pepper and gave the steaming egg a good shake of both. She picked up the spoon and slowly scooped a bit of the egg and brought it to her lips.

"I'll give you some peace while you eat,' Clark said. "If you need anything else, just give me a shout."

He started to go, but then when over to his dresser and pulled out a tee shirt and a pair of drawstring gym shorts.

"Here's something to put on." He said as he laid them on the bed.

He quickly left the room and as soon as he was gone, Selina smiled and took another spoonful of the hard-boiled egg. She reached for the coffee again and took a healthy swallow. She undid the lid on the preserves and brought the jar up to her nose. It smelled delicious. Grabbing the knife she lathered it on a piece of toast, noticing he'd cut it corner to corner and took a bite. It tasted as good as it smelled. She glanced at the door and couldn't help smiling just a little bit more.

* * *

Gotham

Carmine Falcone sat behind his desk going over the latest numbers, both his finances and soldiers. The previous night's dust up had cost him in men, who were now sitting in the Gotham jail. He didn't need a war right now, but he wasn't going to let anyone muscle in on his turf. It was already costing him money; so the sooner he dealt with it the better things would be. He'd sent a couple of soldiers out to relay a message to his rivals. The bodies would be showing up in Gotham harbor later tonight. He was making plans if anyone though about retaliating.

Falcone's office door opened and Zsasz came limping in. He looked like hell and had a foul expression on his face. Zsasz walked over to the desk and dropped a paper bag on it.

"What the hell is this?' Falcone asked.

"It's your money back,' Zsasz replied. "I changed my mind about taking your job."

"Bullshit, Zsasz, we had a deal! I want whoever stole from me to pay and you took my offer. There's no renegotiations, pal,' Falcone snapped.

"This isn't a renegotiation, it's a termination,' Zsasz said. "You didn't mention anything about a demon being involved."

"A what?"

"A demon, with eyes that glow with fire and who floats on air,' Zsasz explained. "He told me to stay away, and I'm taking that as a sign. Higher powers are at work here, Falcone and all your money isn't going to get me to mess with them."

"You're fucking nuts, Zsasz," Falcone shouted. "What the hell are you talking about, demons? There's no demons, just whoever stole from me and I want them. Is that clear?"

"Find them yourself, I don't mess with demons," Zsasz said and then turned and walked towards the door.

"Nobody walks out on Carmine Falcone, Zsasz, nobody! You'll regret you ever hear my name if you leave now, you hear?"

Zsasz didn't reply, just left the office and didn't turn around.

* * *

Gotham

Selina had finished the breakfast and struggled into the cloths. Clark returned and took the tray away and then came back to check on her bandages. He brought her a refill on the coffee too. She lay on top of his bed, the sheets and blankets pulled down as he started at her ankles. The drawstring on the shorts was pulled as tight as possible, but they still hung rather low on her hips. She still ached all over, but Selina found she liked being pampered like this. Oh, she'd been to spas before and loved them, but this felt different. While she'd never experienced it herself, this put Selina in mind of staying home from school and having your Mom take care of you. Only in this case, it wasn't her Mom, but a rather good looking, if nervous young farm boy.

As Clark lifted her left calf and cleaned some of the cuts and then rewrapped it, Selina couldn't help smiling. She was feeling better and a bit playful. Extending her right leg, she brushed her foot against his thigh just to see what sort of reaction she would get. He looked up at her immediately.

"So what's the prognosis, doc? Am I going to live?" She asked.

"I'm not a doctor, but your cuts are healing,' Clark replied, shifting position a bit away from her foot. "You're going to have some bruising but you should be fine in a couple of days."

Selina brushed her foot a little higher on his thigh.

"How am I ever going to repay you for being so good to me, Clark?' She not so innocently asked.

Clark shifted again, a little uncomfortable with where her foot was heading.

"That's not necessary,' he said.

"Are you sure, Clark?'

He got off the bed as her foot moved closer to him again. He looked down at her and could see the smile on her lips. He knew she was messing with him.

"Selina, you're a beautiful woman and yes I've noticed, but you're also injured,' He said. "Why don't we keep this on a friendly level, please?"

"I was just being friendly, Clark,' she replied with an innocent smile.

"Could you be a little less friendly? Please?'

"What's the matter? You didn't like it?" She asked.

"No, but again you're injured,' he said with a shake of his head. "Let's concentrate on that right now."

"Okay, Clark, have it your way,' Selina replied. She lay back on the bed and slowly inched the oversized tee shirt up until the bottom curves of her breasts were visible. "Do you want to check the rest too?"

Clark knew she was teasing him, but the only problem was it was working. She was a very attractive, sexy young woman and he was very aware of it.

"Every-Everything looks great, I mean, it looks like you're healing,' he managed to say. "Could you pull the shirt down, please?"

"Don't you think you better check, Clark?" Selina said, taking his hand in hers and bringing it down to her flat, smooth stomach. She was watching his eyes the whole time and trying not to laugh. She was enjoying making the farm boy so flustered. Slowly she began to move his hand higher but he quickly stopped her. "Does everything feel okay, Clark?"

"Yes."

He pulled his hand away, perhaps a moment later than he should have and then quickly stood up. Selina couldn't hold back any longer and gave a small laugh.

"You've had your fun,' he said. "Why don't you rest for a while? If you need anything let me know."

He wanted to put some distance between them and let things cool down, but she wasn't finished teasing him.

"Could I have a little more coffee, Clark, please?' She asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Of course."

He picked up the cup and was heading back toward the living room when she called a to him.

"You know I'm going to have to use the bathroom soon, Clark, you'll have to help me with that too."

He turned and looked at her. She was smiling at him.

"I think you can manage on your own, Selina."

"I'm still weak, Clark, you said so yourself,' she replied. "I could get dizzy and fall, you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No, but you seemed to be improving by the minute."

"Better safe than sorry, right, Clark? Oh, and could you put a bit more cream and sugar in the coffee this time? Thanks."

"Right."

He turned and left the bedroom. Selina lay back, biting her lower lip to stop from laughing. She was enjoying being taken care of much more than she would have imagined.

* * *

Gotham

A small bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room. It was very late or very early depending on your point of view. Dinah slowly opened her eyes. She felt sluggish and everything was out of focus. Deadshot shooting her was her last memory. She remembered feeling pain, but mostly surprise. She had felt a sense of relief that she hadn't killed him that the better angels had won out. Then she felt the impact of his bullet hitting her in the back. She remembered falling and struggling to get up, but failing. Deadshot was talking, but she was too caught up in what was happening to her. Then everything seemed to fade away. She was sure she was dying.

So as her eyes finally started to focus again, she was surprised to see she was in a rather large, canopy bed. She hurt all over, but could feel the cool, expensive silky sheets against her skin. As she tried lifting her head, a groan came from her lips, as it seemed too much even to make this small movement.

"Don't try and move, you've been badly injured,' a voice said. She tried to see where it was coming from but only saw darkness all around her.

"Where-Where am I?' She managed to say, her throat dry and hoarse.

"You're in my house and you're safe, Miss Lance." The voice replied.

"Who are you?

A man stepped part way out from the darkness. He was dressed in what looked like an expensive charcoal gray suit, crisp white shirt and red, print tie. She couldn't seem him too well, as he was still mostly in the shadows, but he seemed rather good looking and somehow familiar to Dinah.

"I'm Bruce Wayne,' he said. "You're very lucky to be alive, Miss Lance."

"How-How did I get here, Mr. Wayne?'

"A friend brought you and asked for my help," he replied. "He also informed me about your trouble with the law, but that shouldn't be a problem. You're safe here."

"Is Ev here, is she okay? What about Deadshot?" Dinah asked. She had so many questions; she wasn't sure where to start.

"Your friend Miss Starling is fine and resting in another room,' he replied. "She wasn't in as serious condition as you and is recovering quickly from her injuries. Deadshot is in police custody. The thing for you to focus on now is getting better, Miss Lance. I'm glad to see you awake, but you need your rest. There's a button on the nightstand if you need anything. Just press it and someone will be here shortly. Try and rest, Miss Lance."

He started for the door. Dinah was still a little confused, but felt she needed to ask at least one more question.

"You said a friend brought me here. Who, Mr. Wayne?'

He turned and looked at her, although he was half in the shadows and she couldn't make his face out clearly.

"Batman, Miss Lance. Now try and get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning."


	20. Chapter 20

Brechtian

Gotham

The light, haunting smell of gardenia and lavender seemed to pull Dinah back to the land of the living. Her head slowly followed the scents and when she opened her eyes she saw the beautiful vase of flowers expertly arraigned on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Finally, you had me worried, Di."

Dinah shifted her eyes and saw Ev was sitting next to the bed smiling. She could see the bandages on Ev's arm and some bruising around her eye and jaw, but she looked far better than Dinah felt. Questions came. Dinah tried to sit up, but her body didn't seem to want to.

"Try not to move too much,' Ev said. She raised her hand and gestured for Dinah to lie still. "Alfred said you needed to rest for awhile until you heal."

"Who?' Dinah asked, but her voice sounded raspy.

With a groan Ev slowly got up and poured Dinah a glass of water from the crystal decanter on the nightstand next to the flowers. Ev held it close until she as sure Dinah had a firm grip on it. Dinah brought the glass to her lips and took a long drink. She was parched and would have drunk the whole thing, if Ev hadn't stopped her.

"Hey, slow down, just take sips."

Dinah looked at her, but then followed her direction. She finished about half of it and then Ev put in back on the nightstand.

"Again, who?" Dinah said.

"Alfred, he's sort of the guy that runs this place,' Ev replied.

"I thought it was Bruce Wayne's house?"

"It is, but Alfred's sort of the butler or something.

"I prefer gentleman's gentleman if you have to give me a title."

The two women turned to see a well dress older gentleman at the door. There was another man behind him, holding what looked like a black medical bag. They both moved into the room, the second man closing the door behind them. Alfred went to the curtains and pulled them slightly back, letting in the sunlight. The room seemed to transform in front of Dinah's eyes and take on definition. Alfred turned and addressed Ev.

"Miss Starling, I believe we agreed you would remain in your room until the doctor said otherwise?"

"Well, yeah, but I got bored,' Ev admitted. "Besides, I wanted to see for myself how Dinah was doing."

Dinah had been watching the other man, as his eyes seemed to shift back and forth between the older man and Ev. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about the way the man smiled when he realized she was looking at him that seemed too practiced. He may have noticed but he didn't let on anything was different. Walking over to the bed, he set his case down and opened it.

"I'm the doctor, Thomas Elliot, Miss Lance,' he said. "How are you feeling?

"Sore and weak," Dinah replied.

"I'm not surprised,' Dr. Elliot said. "You sustained rather serious injuries. You're very lucky to be alive."

"I guess I owe you a thank you, Doctor."

"Please, call me Tommy, everyone does," he replied. His smile was better now, more natural, but Dinah still got the impression it was a façade. He had apparently saved her life, so now was hardly the time to question his motives.

"Doctor Elliot is a family friend, Miss,' Alfred explained. "He understands your situation. You're quite safe, I assure you.'

"Thank you,' Dinah replied. 'Thank you both."

"Just doing a favor for a friend," Elliot said. "Glad to help out, especially with such beautiful women. Bruce always did have an eye for the most beautiful ones. Now how about letting me check on my work, Miss Lance?"

Dinah nodded her agreement, too weak to really protest. Elliot slowly drew the covers down and Dinah realized she was wearing something like a hospital gown. As gently as he could, he helped her roll over onto her side. She couldn't see what he was doing, but apparently it wasn't too bad from the look on Ev's face. Finally he eased her back down and pulled up the covers.

"I do excellent work, if I must say,' Elliot said with a smile. This one actually seemed genuine. "The bullet missed your vital organs and spine so it was the lost of blood that was the biggest concern. It was touch and go there for awhile, but you look like you'll make a full recovery, Miss Lance."

"Thank you, doctor," Dinah replied.

"Tommy, remember?'

"I remember."

"So what about me, doc?' Ev asked. "Could you tell Alfred I'm okay to move around?"

"I doubt it would matter if I said otherwise, you'd do what you want, Miss Starling,' Elliot said as he closed up his bag. "But as long as you don't do anything too strenuous it should be all right."

"Told ya,' Ev said to Alfred.

"Yes, you did, didn't you?" The older man dryly offered.

"I'll stop by tomorrow and check on their progress, Alfred,' Elliot said, as he closed his bag and started to move towards the door.

"Thank you again for all you've done," Alfred replied, moving over to shake the younger man's hand

"Don't mention it."

The shook hands and as they did the door opened.

"So what's the prognosis, Tommy?"

Bruce Wayne, the one so familiar from the newspapers and gossip columns stood smiling in the doorway. He was dressed casually, a white oxford shirt under a cashmere sweater and dark linen slacks. Dr. Elliot moved towards him and they shook hands.

"Both patients are doing very well, Bruce,' Elliot informed him.

"Good, good, I owe you one, Tommy,' Bruce Wayne replied.

"I'll remember that,' Elliot said with a grin.

"I'm sure you will."

They chatted for just a moment, but the doctor had other places to be, so Alfred volunteered to escort him to the door. Elliot protested, but knew it was pointless. After they were gone, Bruce slipped his hands into his pockets and walked over to the bedside.

"You had us all very worried, Miss Lance, especially your friend, Miss Starling,' he said. "Alfred's usually pretty good and keeping an eye on people, but apparently she was able to slip past him."

"Well, I have some skills too, Mr. Wayne,' Ev said with a smirk.

"Oh, I just bet you do,' he teased in return.

Dinah watched him and saw the charm that the gossip columns spoke of. The playboy billionaire easily flirted with Ev as if it was as natural as breathing to him. Ev seemed quite taken by him as well, and Dinah could understand why. He was a little older than the two of them, but younger than she would have imagined. He was also rather handsome and his clothes hinted at someone who kept in very good shape. All of this was sort of what she expected, but one part of all of this didn't seemed to fit.

"And how are you feeling, Miss Lance?" He asked.

"Better and thank you for everything,' she replied.

"My pleasure."

"I hate to sound like I don't appreciate everything you've done for me, but last night you said Batman brought me here,' Dinah said. "What is your connection to Batman, Mr. Wayne?"

"You make it sound so dramatic,' he replied with an easy laugh. "I don't really have a connection with him. You could say I owed him a favor and he was collecting."

"A favor?"

"Yes, he saved my life,' Bruce explained. "I may be many things, but ungrateful isn't one of them. So when he asked that I help the two of you, how could I refuse? Besides, two lovely damsels in distress at my doorstep, what kind of heel would I be to turn you away?"

"You're putting yourself as risk just by helping us, Mr. Wayne.' Dinah felt she had to say. "I hope this won't be something you regret."

"I may not know the Batman, Miss Lance, but I do know Commissioner Gordon," Bruce replied. "He vouches for the man, that's good enough for me. Batman said you weren't who the papers say you are, so the risk didn't seem that bad."

"You're taking a lot on faith from someone you don't know, Mr. Wayne,' Ev pointed out.

"What's life without a little risk, Miss Starling,' Bruce said. "Besides, Alfred checked you both when you arrived. Your weapons are safely locked away until you're better. In your present condition I think I'm pretty safe."

"You never know, Mr. Wayne, I might ambush you in your bed while you sleep,' Ev teased.

"I'm sure that would make it all the more worthwhile, Miss Starling,' he replied.

Dinah felt embarrassed by Ev. She was shamelessly flirting with the man right in front of her. Her she is on her deathbed, and Ev is trying to pick the guy up, Dinah thought.

"I'd like to stay, longer, but I'm afraid business calls,' Bruce finally said. "I am the head of a large corporation after all. If I don't show up once and awhile they get nervous. If either of you need anything just let Alfred know."

He gave them both a warm smile and then started for the door.

"Mr. Wayne?' Dinah found herself saying.

He turned and looked at her.

"Yes?"

"I know you said you don't know him, but if you happen to run into Batman, could you tell him thank you for saving our lives? I was sure Deadshot was going to kill us both,' Dinah said.

"If I see him, I'll tell him, Miss Lance,' Bruce said. "Although from what he said that night, he wasn't the one that stopped Deadshot."

"He wasn't?"

"No, it was that other fellow that seems to be in all the papers recently, the one they call Superman,' Bruce informed her. "Try and get some rest, both of you."

He gave them both another warm smile and then was gone. Dinah lay back on the pillow not sure what to think. Clark saved her? Even after the way they ended things the last time?

* * *

Gotham

Selina had let up on the teasing a bit, but she couldn't resist some teasing. While she was grateful for Clark's help, she also liked how easily flustered he was around her. In a strange way it made her feel less vulnerable and weak, even though in her present condition that's what she was. All her life to show weakness or vulnerability meant someone would try and take advantage of you. Finding out that not everyone was like that was still hard for Selina to get her head around, yet that seemed to be the case with Clark.

He had ordered some Cuban food for a local delivery place and they ate in his living room. She had made sure to ask him to help her, so she could hold onto him as she walked. She also made sure they made as much contact as possible. They ate Pollo de Coco and Arroz Moro or Coconut Chicken and Black Beans with Rice from the takeout foil tins and washed it down with bottles of Mexican Coca-Cola, which used real sugar cane instead of corn syrup. It was a simple, inexpensive meal but it was hot and delicious.

After dinner, while Clark cleaned up, another thing Selina liked, she switched on his television. He only had basic cable and didn't have a flat screen or Hi-Def, but sometimes it's what's on the television not how well it's presented. Selina flipped through the channels until she landed on the classic movie one. The older man was introducing the next feature and Selina smiled as she realized it was one of her favorites. Clark finished cleaning and sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving as much space as possible between them.

"The Lady from Shanghai?' He asked.

"Yes, I love this movie," Selina replied. "Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles, it's a classic."

"Doesn't she play the femme fatale that seduces him and then frames him for murder?' He asked.

"Yeah." She said brightly, with a big smile. "It's a great movie, but the ending is a little disappointing."

"Doesn't she pay for her crimes at the end?"

"Yeah, like I said, disappointing,' she replied. "Now, shhh, it's starting."

As they sat watching the movie, two things occurred to Clark. One it was a great movie, very film noir and Orson Welles was an amazing director and actor. The other was that Selina had moved closer to him and was now leaning again him. He was very aware of her. All the clichés bits he'd read in stories like how smooth and soft a woman's skin felt or how her scent seemed intoxicating had always seemed to bit much to him before. He'd been on dates and while he noticed their perfume, it hadn't been like the women had overwhelmed his senses. That had always seemed like a bit of romantic crap to him.

He was rethinking that belief now.

Selina knew that words weren't the only way to tease or the most effective. She didn't turn it on full force with him but she liked that he was constantly aware of her. She moved closer all during the movie until she was leaning against his body, her leg lazily draped over his. She was still in the tee shirt and drawstring shorts but she knew how to make them work to her advantage.

Clark knew she was having a little fun with him. He absently wondered what it was about Gotham that made the women so different than any others he'd met before. This thought made him think about Dinah. He was still worried about her and felt guilty. He knew Batman was right, he was out of his league with her injuries, but that didn't make it any easier. Things hadn't really had a chance to go anywhere between them, but that didn't mean he still didn't care about her. He did. He just hoped his hesitation hadn't cost too much.

It felt strange thinking about Dinah while being this close to another woman. Selina had a way of getting his attention without even saying a word. He thought about the situation that had led to her being here and realized just how little he really knew about the mysterious Miss Kyle. She did have a remarkable way of making concentrating on anything other than her rather difficult. The word hard had been his first choice, but he went with difficult because the other word reminded him of something else.

Selina certainly noticed this too. She smiled, pretending to be engrossed in the movie; she managed to move her leg a little higher on his thigh. Yes, the farm boy definitely is aware of that, she thought. She moved further against him, snuggling as her eyelids started to get heavy. She wanted to see the end of the movie, but her body had other ideas. It was still recovering from the night before and her energy was low.

Clark had gotten caught up in the movie. The mirror scene, with all the different angles and shots drew his attention. As he felt Selina cross her arm over his chest, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed and she had fallen asleep. He sat there, not sure what to do as the movie ended and the credits rolled. She shifted again and was now basically lying on top of him. A commercial came on and they announced the next movie, Out of the Past. It was another film noir with a femme fatale as a central character to the story. That wasn't going to help things, as he thought he might already be too close to an actual femme fatale as it was.

Shifting slightly, Clark wrapped his arms around Selina and picked her up. Her eyes half opened as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing, Clark?" She lazily asked.

"I'm taking you to bed,' he replied, and then regretted it when he saw the smile on her lips.

"Well, aren't you the player all of a sudden?' She whispered, a small laugh following it.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it Selina,' he immediately replied.

"Uh-huh."

He carried her into his bedroom and set her down on her feet. Selina turned so her back was too him and then leaned against him. She was definitely having an effect on the farm boy and this pleased her. Reaching down she started to pull off the tee shirt but his hands stopped her.

"What-What are you doing?" He asked.

"I always sleep in the nude, Clark,' she teased, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"Not tonight,' he stated. He knew this was a game to her, but he was tired and didn't want to play anymore. He helped her over to the bed and then pulled up the covers. Selina raised herself on her elbow and looked at him.

"Which side of the bed do you want, Clark?"

"Neither."

"I'm sure we'd both have enough room,' she said with a smile. "It's a big bed, Clark."

"Yes it is,' he replied with a smile of his own and then turned and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?' She asked.

"I'll sleep on the couch,' he replied.

"You don't have to,' she offered.

"Yes I do,' he said, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Selina just stared at the door for a moment, not quite believing what had just happened. Finally she gave a little laugh and pulled the covers up. Sleep overtook her a short while later.

* * *

Gotham

Dinah had managed to sit up on the side of the bed. She was sore all over and just that little effort had taxed her. The door opened and Alfred stepped inside.

"Is it something pathological with you and Miss Starling that the two of you can't just rest, Miss Lance?'

Dinah managed a smile.

"Probably,' she admitted.

"I see,' Alfred replied. "I've dealt with your type before Miss Lance, the obsessive, self reliant and I warn you I know how to deal with it."

"Are you talking about Mr. Wayne, Alfred? He didn't strike me as that type,' Dinah asked.

"I haven't always been his gentleman's gentleman, Miss Lance."

He was standing right in front of her, not blocking her way, but making his presence known to her. Dinah wasn't even sure why she felt she needed to sit up; it was probably just to see if she could do it. She'd been shot it in the back and a part of her was worried about long term. When she hadn't been able to sit up earlier, it scared her a bit. At least now she knew she could move.

"So where is Ev, Alfred?' Dinah asked.

"In the weapons room, of course,' he replied. 'She seems to have a fascination with them."

"Yeah, that sounds about right,' Dinah said. "I'll make sure she doesn't steal anything. I promise."

"Good to hear,' Alfred replied. "So now that you are sitting up, how can I assist you?'

"It's kind of embarrassing,' Dinah offered.

"I'll try not to smirk, Miss."

"I need to go to the bathroom,' she admitted.

"I see."

He glanced at the door and then back at her. Moving over he gently put his arm around her and helped ease her to her feet.

"Take you time,' he suggested. "Unless that's not feasible, in which case I can carry you."

"No, no, no," Dinah quickly said, blushing a bit. "I'll take my time."

Slowly she walked with his support. Once they were in the bathroom she looked at him.

"I'll help you get situated and then step outside,' he explained.

"Is this more of you training before you became a gentleman's gentleman?" She asked.

"No, Miss, this would be basic training for my duties,' he replied. "It usually involves too much to drink, rather than a gunshot, but the principles are the same."

"Now that sounds like the Mr. Wayne I've read in the papers,' Dinah joked.

"I mentioned no names, Miss Lance."


	21. Chapter 21

The Bends

There's a classic story in marketing and advertising about when instant cake mixes, which required only the addition of water were first introduced, initially they sold quite poorly because housewives felt "guilty" about contributing virtually nothing to the cake-making process.

This stumbling block was successfully overcome when one food company hit on the ingenious idea, suggested by marketing and advertising people, of course, of eliminating dried eggs from its mix and instead requiring the addition of a fresh egg, thus assuaging homemakers' guilt by providing them with a greater sense of participatory investment in the results.

It's sort of a fun story that professors in Marketing and Advertising classes love to tell their first year students.

There's one small problem with it though it's bullshit. Never happened.

Sales were quite good when instant cakes were first introduced, in fact between 1947 and 1952 sales doubled. It wasn't until 1956 to 1960 that sales flattened out. Many believe this is where the urban legend of the 'make them add an egg' story comes from. It fails to take into account two things. One, a cake made with fresh eggs produces a superior cake then one with dried eggs. The second is a bit more disturbing. The key marketing innovation was not the fresh-egg cake mix, but rather the repositioning of cakes as merely one element of a larger product, an overall creation that entailed a much greater degree of participation and creativity from homemakers and emphasized appearance over taste.

Let me repeat that last part, it's sort of important when you think about it, **emphasizing appearance over taste**.

Cake became a product and the actual making of it just the first step in the process. The new important part was decorating it. Loading on the frosting, adding a layer of jam in the middle, sprinkling candies or gumdrops or chocolate chips, making a design on the top so it looks like a football field or a Valentine's Day heart, anything you can think of to make it more pleasing to the eye. They just assumed all that sugar would be enough to satisfy your taste buds or fool them into thinking it was good.

The message, making it look good and people will think it is good. It's no longer the reality that matters it's the appearance. In a few short decades they've managed to change your perception of something as simple as cake.

* * *

Gotham – Night

Jim Gordon stood on the rooftop of police headquarters next to the Bat-signal. He wasn't here to turn it on. He stood in the darkness looking out over his city. In the distance he could hear police helicopters working a grid pattern, their spotlights flashing down on the streets and turning night into day. They weren't searching for anyone or anything specific, it had just become another tool in the police force's arsenal. In the basement of the building he was standing on was modified Bradley fighting vehicles, body armor, assault weapons, tactical mobile units and a wide range of explosives. He wasn't just the head of the police; he was in charge of a small army.

All those weapons were at his disposal and now he had one more. He turned and looked at the unlit Bat-signal. The world was changing and he wondered if he was the only one that saw it. When he'd started, the cop on the beat used his nightstick far more then he ever used his gun. Shootings were rare and only as a last resort. The veterans he learned from understood that shooting another human being takes a toll on you. The finality of it doesn't allow for mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes though and Gordon knew this only too well.

That was why he was up here tonight, wondering if he'd made a mistake by putting the Bat-signal on top of police headquarters and basically sanctioning a private crime fighter. Others, mostly his critics, would say he sanctioned a vigilante to do the job the police were supposed to do. It wasn't only his critics though, other voices some that Gordon respected raised concerns.

He had inherited a city that was coming apart at the seams. Violence and crime were rampant, as was corruption on every level. His first efforts to try and clean it up failed, mostly because those in his own force were part of the problem, as were the local politicians and entire system. They'd tried taking his life and almost succeeded. That forced him to make hard decisions, one of which was embracing the Batman. Things had changed for the better, but Gordon knew the problems of Gotham wouldn't be solved in a week or a year or even ten years. The roots ran too deep. You pull one out and ten more sprung up to take its place.

Gordon knew Batman was a good man, a brave and noble man that believed the same things he did. He didn't regret accepting his help, but feared what that had started. Gotham had always had its share of bizarre and eccentric criminals. The Riddler, the Penguin, Victor Zsasz, the Scarecrow, Two-Face and even as twisted as he was, the Joker were just the latest examples of that. They were all human under the outer trappings, though at times it was hard to believe. Add in the crime families and you had a criminal problem that ordinary policemen and women still had a chance at dealing with.

Gordon couldn't help wondering if the appearance of this so-called Superman wasn't a canary in the coalmine moment. Was Gordon like a sentry on the edge of the Roman Empire seeing the first barbarians riding over the hill? What could his police force or army do against a man that could leap tall buildings in a single bound? Was this Superman just an anomaly or the first of something else, an escalation? What other compromises would he be forced to make if a new batch of criminals with Meta powers emerged? Would he still be the chief of police or more and more be the commander of an army? Where was the line between a war on crime and just a war?

* * *

Gotham – Sunday

Selina was strong enough to return to her own apartment, but just for fun she had Clark carry her. The smile on her face as he made the trek on two flights of stairs, holding her in his arms, made him just a little suspicious of her reasoning. Having spent the last two nights and a day with her, Clark had to admit he was attracted to Selina Kyle. She was beautiful and mysterious and unlike anyone woman he'd met in his young life. She was this strange mixture of sex and danger that gave him pause but also attracted him.

He had no idea how she thought of him, although she did seem to enjoy making him uncomfortable. She was very good at it too. Even when he knew that was what she was doing, she still managed to make him feel off kilter and unsure of how to react. So as he finally reached her apartment door and started to ease her down to her feet, she somehow managed to slither against his body so they were standing and facing each other. He could feel every inch of her body pressed against him and also knew that was what she intended.

"I'm, ah, glad you're feeling better, Selina,' he managed to say. "I imagine you can take it from here."

"Would you mind opening the door and making sure no one's inside waiting for me?" She asked with a smile. "Please Clark?"

"Sure."

"You're such a good guy."

Clark stepped to the side and moved to open the door. Selina was right behind him, pressing against his back now instead of his front. Clark turned the knob and let the door swing open. There was no sound coming from inside, so he stepped in, followed closely by Selina. He did a quick check and then returned to the door.

"No one here, you're safe,' he said.

"How am I ever going to thank you, Clark?" Selina said in a rather breathy voice.

"That's not necessary,' he offered, trying to slip around her and out the door. He almost made it, when she reached out and gently tugged on his wrist so he was facing her in the doorway.

"I think I know how,' she said.

Clark watched as in slow motion as she moved forward and kissed him. He'd been kissed before but this was still a rather extraordinary kiss. It felt as if she put her whole body into it, and in some senses she did. When she finally stepped away, she was smiling and he was more than a bit flustered.

"Thanks again, Clark,' Selina said and then closed the door.

"You're-You're welcome."

He turned after a moment to return to his apartment and nearly misjudged the steps. Grabbing for the railing, he managed not to fall down the flight of stairs. Righting himself, he looked back at her door and then shook his head. Slowly he descended the stairs, but he could have sworn he heard giggling on the other side of her door.

* * *

Gotham – Wayne Manor - Sunday

Dinah managed to get out of bed and walk, probably more on will power than anything. She knew she was lucky to be alive, but she hated feeling helpless. In her mind she had survived and now it was just a matter of rehabbing to get back into shape. She always appreciated the help of others, but believed her recovery always started and succeeded with her.

She made it to the bathroom on her own, not wanting to repeat the embarrassing, awkward situation with Alfred and then decided not to go back to bed, but to get out of her room. Ev was God knows where, but Dinah thought she was strong enough on her own to make it. That didn't mean she wanted to draw attention to herself, she didn't. Easing the door open, she glanced in both directions before slipping out of her room. She closed the door silently and then turned back to decide which direction to go.

"I would advice going to your left, Miss Lance."

She inwardly groaned and then turned to see Alfred standing in the hallway holding a robe folded over his arm.

"The left has an elevator,' he continued. "The right has stairs which I doubt you could manage in your present condition."

"You're not going to insist I get back in bed?" She nervously asked.

"Would it do any good?" He replied.

"No," she admitted.

"I didn't think so,' he said. "Since you're determined to disregard your doctor's advice and common sense, I will insist you do it with the least amount of risk."

Dinah looked at him, and saw him point to her left.

"The elevator, Miss Lance."

Dinah nodded and slowly started to turn. Alfred was next to her in moments, holding out the robe for her to put on.

"That is a modified hospital gown, Miss Lance, open in the back,' he said. "Today the gardeners are working, so unless you planned on giving them a show, I would advice putting this on."

Dinah's face reddened with embarrassment, as she allowed Alfred to her help her put on the robe. She'd only known the older man for two days yet somehow he managed to make her feel like a naïve teenager instead of a seasoned professional agent.

"Um, thanks, Alfred,' she offered, trying to hid her embarrassment, but reasonably sure she wasn't doing such a good job of it.

"Of course."

He extended his arm next to her and Dinah rested hers on top of it. Without another word he helped guide her to the elevator. They stood side by side as it silently descend to the first floor. The door opened and another long hallway presented itself.

"May I suggest the kitchen, Miss?" Alfred said. "You could sit down and perhaps eat something?"

"That sounds good."

Still holding on to his arm, Dinah allowed him to steer her towards the kitchen. She wasn't moving very fast, in fact she was pretty much slowly shuffling, but he never seemed in a hurry. Once they reached the huge kitchen he guided her over to one of the high backed chairs and helped her sit down. As he turned to prepare something, Dinah quickly wiped the sweat off her brow. She was a bit exhausted from the walk, but didn't want him to know it. When he turned and brought over a cup of coffee, she managed a smile.

"Thank you,' Dinah said and then offered. "You know I'm feeling much better, Alfred."

"That's good to hear, Miss." He said, turning back to finish up his preparations.

"I could help with something if you want,' Dinah said. "I'm really feeling much better."

Alfred turned and gave her a small, knowing smile.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer."

A few silent minutes passed and then he brought over a plate and set it down in front of her. It looked delicious and Dinah felt her stomach rumble just a bit.

"Please eat, Miss Lance, I'm sure it will help you regain your strength."

"I really am feeling better,' she repeated, as she picked up her fork and dug in.

"As I said, that's good to hear," Alfred replied. "The fact that you worked up a sweat just walking to the kitchen I'm sure it a good sign. Enjoy your meal, Miss."

Dinah looked at him with a mouthful of food and blushed again.

* * *

Gotham

Selina moved around her apartment looking at everything. It was still in a shambles from her fight with Zsasz, but she didn't feel like cleaning it up just now. She double locked the door and the windows and then headed towards her bedroom. Her bed was still unmade, but she slipped under the covers anyway. It felt just as she remembered. She smiled and relaxed into the softness. It was good to be home again.

She was still a little tired and closed her eyes. Sleep didn't come though. Surprisingly it wasn't her fight with Zsasz that kept her awake, but the farm boy downstairs. She found herself replaying the last two days over in her mind. She smiled as she remembered how easily she could fluster him. Just a kiss and he'd nearly fallen down the stairs.

It all seemed strange to her, the whole time she had been in his apartment. She kept expecting one thing, yet he would do the opposite. She had to admit, he was a good looking guy and she wouldn't have been opposed to the idea of sleeping with him if he'd suggested it while she was staying with him, yet he hadn't. For all her innuendos and teasing, he'd been a perfect gentleman the whole time. Again it was the opposite of everything she expected. Could it really be as simple as she was injured and he didn't want to take advantage of the situation? Every experience Selina had in her young life told her that didn't happen; yet it seemingly just had. As she lay in her bed, she found herself again trying to figure out what was Clark Kent's deal? She knew he wasn't gay; he'd been dating Blondie before their recent break up, yet she couldn't seem to think of any alternative for his actions. It wasn't like he wasn't attracted to her, Selina had ample evidence that he was. So, again, what the hell was his deal anyway, she thought?

* * *

Gotham

The nondescript office building was set off from the main thoroughfares in a quiet neighborhood in one of the better parts of Gotham. The long, black sedan pulled up in front and after a moment the back door opened. Rupert Thorne climbed out, glancing nervously up and down the street before moving quickly up the stairs. He rang the bell and after a few more moments, it opened and he walked inside.

Thorne was trying to start a war between the Falcone and Maroni crime families. Between them, they were the two most powerful families in the city. They control much of the loan sharking, rackets, drugs and protection. Thorne was no hero and knew taking both families head on was suicide. He needed help, preferably outside help. If he tried cutting a deal with any of the other factions in Gotham, word would eventually get back to Falcone and Maroni. Instead of destroying each other, they would both turn on Thorne. It seemed like a long shot for him, but then a man came to see him. Suddenly Rupert Thorne's prospects improved.

He was ushered down a hallway and then searched before being led into a dark den. A large man sat behind a massive desk. He gestured for Thorne to take a seat. As he did, the doors closed behind him leaving the two of them alone.

"So any progress?' The large man asked.

"Some,' Thorne replied. "But Batman interfered and then the police showed up. Most of the soldiers were arrested instead of killing each other."

"They're out of the way, that's all the matters right now."

"Both families still have a lot of firepower,' Thorne began. He was nervous and licked his lips. "I could use some more of those advanced weapons of yours."

The large man leaned forward into the light coming from the desk lamp. He smiled, but it was a cold smile, devoid of emotion.

"Could you now?"

"Yes, Mr. Mannheim."

Bruno Mannheim was the head of Intergang, a powerful criminal organization in Metropolis. Once he'd established control in that city his sights turned to others. Gotham was first on his list. He could probably win a war with Gotham's crime families with his superior number of soldiers and advanced weapons, but why waste his own people when he could do it by proxy? Thorne had come to him hat in hand to ask for his help and Bruno knew a golden opportunity when he saw it.

"I'll have a five hundred more pulse rifles delivered to your warehouse by the end of the week."

"Thank you, you won't regret it, Mr. Mannheim,' Thorne said with a smile.

"I'm sure I won't,' Mannheim replied. "Just remember our deal, Thorne, you'll take over as the boss of Gotham, but you'll work for me. You're a part of Intergang now and we have big plans for the future."

"Just as long as I run Gotham, we won't have any problem, Mr. Mannheim,' Thorne countered. "I have you word on that, don't I?"

"Of course you do,' Mannheim replied, the smile still on his face.

* * *

Gotham – Monday

Clark returned to work after an interesting weekend. As he walked in to the main offices, he could see an argument was going on between the owners, Dent and Josh and Vicki Vale. He made his way over to Jerry who was holding up the coffee maker watching.

"So what's that about?' Clark asked.

"Miss Vale wants to do some field work and Josh and Dent think it's too dangerous." Jerry replied. "If I was in their shoes, I'd agree to anything she asked. God, she is so hot!"

"Are you stoned again, Jerry?' Clark asked. "You said that kind of loud."

"I did?" Jerry replied, suddenly glancing all around him nervously. "You don't think everyone heard me, do you, Clark? You don't think she heard me, do you? Is everyone looking at me? They are, aren't they? Everyone knows, I can see it in their eyes!"

"Jerry, you're freaking out here.' Clark said, trying to calm him down. "No one heard you and they're not looking at you, but if you keep this up they will."

Jerry nodded and then took a bite of a danish.

"Maybe I'll just go to my little cubbyhole and take a quick nap."

"Might be wise,' Clark replied.

Jerry slipped off and Clark started for his own cubbyhole, keeping an eye on the argument between Vicki Vale and Josh and Dent.

"You gave me complete editorial control over what stories I work on,' she loudly said. "I want to do this story, including interviews."

"We're not telling you not to do it, Vicki,' Dent replied. "It's just seems a little dangerous. You're valuable to us and we want to make sure you're safe."

"I'm not going in there with armed guards, guys,' she said. "No one will talk to me if I do."

"It's the insurance, Vicki, they won't cover you going in alone,' Josh said.

"So this is about money?" She asked.

'Well, yeah, isn't everything?"

Vicki thought about it for a moment and then did a quick scan of the office. Her eyes stopped on Clark. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this. Vicki pointed at him.

"I'll take Kent with me,' she said. "That way I won't be going alone. Satisfied?"

The two owners looked over at Clark and he started for his tiny office but didn't make it before they called him over.

"Clark, could you come here a moment?"

Reluctantly, he walked over and joined them.

Josh and Dent seemed to almost examine him.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, he's a big guy,' Vicki countered. "Did you play any football, Kent?"

"A little,' he admitted.

"Perfect,' Vicki triumphantly said.

Josh and Dent looked at each other and then seemed to give in.

"All right, take him but please be careful."

"Don't worry,' Vicki replied.

The two owners shook their heads and walked away.

"Um, what exactly did I just get myself or more accurately, what did you just get me into, Miss Vale?" Clark asked.

"I heading down the Iceberg Lounge to interview Oswald Cobblepot and then some others in the criminal community about this Superman,' Vicki replied. "You're going to be sort of my bodyguard, Kent. Try and stay out of the way, though."

"Great."

* * *

Gotham – Wayne Manor

Dinah was moving a little better today then she was yesterday, but she was still weak and tired. She hadn't seen Bruce Wayne since he came to her room but Alfred seemed to be everywhere. She couldn't seem to get anything past the old man. Ev thought she was fooling him, but Dinah suspected he was just allowing her to think she was.

After talking with Ev, Dinah had returned to her room. She said she was going to rest for a while, but she had something else she needed to do. She wanted to make sure Alfred and everyone else didn't find out about it. Using some of her lesser-known skills she had lifted Ev's cell phone from her. Knowing Ev, the phone was probably a burner phone and couldn't be traced. That worked perfectly for what Dinah had in mind.

Something had been troubling her since she woke up and first heard what happened that night. She was nervous, but she knew she had to make the call. Taking a deep breath and trying not to bite her lip, Dinah dialed his number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Clark, it-it's me, Dinah." She said. "Please don't hang up."


	22. Chapter 22

Mobius strips

"I'm not going to hang up, Dinah. I'm actually glad you called. Are you alright?"

Dinah silently exhaled in relief.

"I'm-I'm on the mend,' she replied.

"So where are you?' He asked.

"I-I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

She heard him sigh in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Clark."

"I didn't think it was a national secret, Dinah, I was just worried about you,' he replied.

"Look, I know I've been a bit secretive, Clark, I'm sorry."

"A bit secretive?"

"Okay, maybe more than a bit,' she admitted. "This time it's not about me; it's to protect someone else. They're helping me and I don't want that to come back on them. Please try and understand."

"I guess I understand,' he replied. "I was just worried that all."

"You saved me, Clark,' Dinah replied.

Silence came from the other end. For a moment she though he hung up.

"I froze, Dinah. It could have cost you your life."

"No, you saved me. That's why I called, to say thank you and-and to apologize for the way I behaved the last time we saw each other."

"Okay."

"I was wrong." It was painful for to admit, but she needed to clear the air between them. Even if he never wanted to see her again, she wanted to make things right. "You-You were right. I wasn't letting go of my past. I've been trying to fit everything into that world even if there was no connection. I did that with you and I'm so sorry."

He was quiet on the other end and Dinah wasn't sure what to think. If the phone had been one of the old style ones she would have been twirling the cord between her fingers. The strands of her blond hair served as a substitute.

"Thank you." He finally said, his voice rather quiet.

A small smile came to her lips. She had more she wanted to say to him, but in the background on his end she would hear a woman calling his last name.

"I'm sorry, I've got to go,' he said.

"Okay."

There was another long pause and for some reason she didn't want to be the first to hang up. It was one of those silly thoughts, but in the moment she felt if she did she would be ending things between them. Even though there wasn't any 'things' between them now, she still didn't want to be the one to hang up. She could hear the woman's voice calling his last name again, only this time it was louder and closer to him.

"Dinah?' He finally said.

"Yes?"

"I don't have your number, so if you want, you can call me again. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye."

"Bye."

She heard the woman talking to him from up close and then he finally hung up. Dinah took the phone down from her ear and couldn't help smiling just a bit more.

"It must be someone special."

Dinah turned to see Bruce Wayne leaning against the door frame.

"I didn't hear you come in,' she quickly said.

"I didn't want to interrupt,' he replied. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but by your expression I could guess."

"Oh,' Dinah said, blushing just a bit. She slipped the phone into her robe pocket almost as if she were hiding the evidence of the call.

"So?" Bruce asked with a smile.

"What?"

"Was it someone special?"

"Maybe he is, I don't know,' Dinah admitted with a shrug.

"He's a lucky man." He held her eyes as he said the words and gave her a charming smile. "A very lucky man."

Dinah found herself intensely aware of Bruce Wayne in that moment. It seemed to linger a bit longer than it should, before he finally broke it.

"Tommy downstairs, 'he offered. "He wanted to check and see how you're doing."

Dinah nodded and gingerly got off the bed.

"I would have brought a wheelchair, but Alfred said you wouldn't want one,' Bruce said. "I was assigned to assist you."

"I can manage, Mr. Wayne,' she replied, try to sound a little more defiant than she felt.

"I'm sure you can, but you've met Alfred haven't you?" Bruce countered. "Let me help and please call me Bruce."

He offered his arm, as she got closer. Dinah hesitated, but then rested her arm on his. She used her other hand to brush some of her hair back from her face and looked at him. He smiled patiently in return.

"Um, thank you, Bruce."

"You're welcome, Dinah."

* * *

Gotham – Derive Magazine

Vicki Vale stood in the doorway of Clark's small work area. She was dressed to the nines, professionally attired but with her accustomed hint of sex appeal. Clark had just finished the phone call and his mind was still on Dinah, but he quickly tried to shift focus to Vicki.

"I'll be ready in just a second,' he offered.

Vicki stood and watched him grab his bag and coat. He was a large guy and not bad looking she thought, but he wasn't presenting himself the way he should for today.

"Look, Clark, I know you're not excited about doing this,' Vicki said. "Frankly, I'm not either, but I did it to get Dent and Josh off my back."

"I got that impression."

"I'm not expecting any trouble, I'm just going to ask some questions,' she continued. "You should be fine, so don't worry about it, okay?"

"I'll try and do my best,' he replied.

He stood, shouldering his bag and was ready to go. Vicki stood in his way looking at him.

"Should we go?' He asked.

She brought her fingertips up to her mouth and seemed to be considering something. She looked at his clothes and then into his eyes.

"Do you mind a couple of suggestions?" She tentatively asked.

"About what?"

"You don't exactly look like a tough guy, Clark,' she replied.

"I wasn't trying to."

"Well, I don't think we're going to have any problems, but if you're going with me you should look like a tough guy,' she suggested. "Lose the shoulder bag, please."

With a sigh he set it back down on his cluttered desk.

"Better?"

"A bit, but what are you wearing, a tee shirt, button down and a jacket?' She asked. "The casual layered look is nice if you're going to Maroon 5 concert, but it doesn't say tough. Here, slip off the button down."

She helped him take off his a jacket and shirt and then after pausing she untucked his tee shirt.

"Okay, put the jacket back on."

He did.

"Satisfied?"

"Better. Sorry, I have a thing about tucked in tee shirts,' she said. "I always thought there should be a cut off age when you had to stop wearing them. Have you ever seen an old guy wearing one? Its always inappropriate and sort of washed out. It's sad really. Their pants always seem too high and their belts too big or worse they were suspenders."

"I'm 22, Vicki,' he informed her.

"Oh, it looks all right on you, but you look tougher with it untucked."

"Tougher?"

"Yeah, can you lose the glasses too?" She asked, reached out and slipping them off his face. She thought he seemed much better looking without them. He had amazingly blue eyes.

"Better,' she whispered.

"My eyes have been bothering me lately, those help,' he replied, holding out his hand for his glasses. She reluctantly handed them back.

"You're better looking with out them,' she suggested.

"I thought I was going for tougher?' he replied with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, um, that too,' she quickly recovered. "Tougher, definitely tougher without them."

He thought for a moment she was almost going to blush a bit and found it amusing and flattering. Maybe Selina was rubbing off on him, he thought.

"Anything else?" He asked.

"Do you have any gloves? Real tough guys, I mean real tough guys, always have gloves,' she replied. "I did a story on the mob once and you could always spot the enforcers because they had gloves with them. You get in a fight and a guy takes out a pair of gloves, you're usually in for an ass kicking."

"Sorry, no gloves."

"Well, we'll just have to make do." She gave him the once over again, and then stepped closer. Vicki reached up and ran her fingers through his hair pushing it back away from his face. He really was a good-looking guy, she thought.

"Better,' she said with a smile.

"Um, thanks."

She was standing very closer to him and Jerry's comments suddenly came back to Clark. Vicki Vale was a very beautiful woman.

"So are you ready to do this?" She asked, looking up into his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"The interviews,' she replied, then smiled. "What did you think I meant, Clark?"

"Right, the interviews,' he repeated.

Vicki spun on her heels and headed towards the door. Clark was a 22-year-old man after all, so he noticed how form fitting her suit was. It fit her very well. Vicki glanced over her shoulder and caught him looking.

"Let's go, Clark,' she said. She wasn't surprised to see him looking, she was used to it somewhat by now. She would have been more surprised if he hadn't been looking. She suddenly stopped at his door and turned as another idea hit her.

"Hey, maybe you should carry a camera and we'll say you're a photographer?" She suggested.

"I thought I was supposed to look tough?" He asked.

"Yeah, no offense, Clark, but you don't pull the tough guy look off very well."

"Thanks."

* * *

Gotham

Selina slowly sat up on the side of her bed and groaned.

"Coffee." She muttered under her breath.

She was feeling better, the bruising had almost disappeared, but she still had the aches and pains. Grabbing a pair of yoga shorts and a wife beater, she slipped them on along with her Nick and Nora brown monkey slippers and slowly made her way towards the kitchen. Passing through the living room she saw it was still in a shambles, but she didn't feel like tackling it just yet.

Once the coffee maker was going, Selina moved over and opened the refrigerator. Her options were limited, a stick of margarine, a packet of yeast, creamer, several bottles of water, assorted energy drinks and the remains of several take out orders ranging from Thai to Chinese. Clark's hard-boiled egg and toast with homemade preserves seemed wonderful right about then. Making a face she snagged the creamer and closed the door.

Coffee helped. As her head started to clear a little more, Selina thought about her situation. After her fight with Zsasz she'd spent her weekend at Clark's apartment. She'd thoroughly enjoyed herself, but now that might present a problem. News of her battle with Zsasz was probably all over the streets by now. That she hadn't been seen since Friday would get people talking. In her world perception was almost as important as reality. If people just thought she was hurt or less than full strength they would try and take advantage of her weakness.

It sounded brutal, but often times the jungle metaphor applies to most of society. A quick drive around the poorer neighborhoods shows this. It doesn't take long for a house to be stripped of its aluminum siding or copper pipes or wiring. All it takes is the impression no one is living there or watching the place for scavengers to strike. Leave something unprotected and it will be gone before you know it.

The poorer neighborhoods are just the most obvious, but the same principal applies throughout society. A mattress is pretty much the same as it has been for fifty years, but walk into a mattress store and you can expect to be taken. Just by walking in you've signaled you need a mattress. People don't browse mattress stores; they only go in when they need one. The salesmen know this too.

In the financial sector there is a whole industry set up to bet against success. Millions, perhaps billions are made every year betting against a corporate turn around, a loan deal working or a stock price remaining stable. It's all very complicated and involves the derivative markets, but a financial institution can actually be the originator of a deal and bet against that deal and make more money when it fails then when it succeeds. Probably not good for the long-term health of the country or the poor shmoo that works at one of those companies, but it's all about the profits now.

So Selina's world wasn't that different from the rest and in many ways was a microcosm of the larger world around us. The world she grew up in just happened to be more immediately and brutal. People came at you head on, not through channels, regulations, lawyers and accountants. Weakness was blood in the water and no matter what level of society you live it that brings out the sharks.

As she leaned back against the kitchen counter, cupping her coffee mug between her hands, Selina formulated a plan. She needed to be seen out and about, as if nothing was wrong. She needed to project strength, as if Zsasz's attack was so much water under the bridge and she wasn't concerned at all by it. Selina needed an excuse for where she'd been all weekend. She couldn't exactly say she'd been laid up in a neighbor's apartment recovering, but perhaps she could stick mostly to the truth. Some times the best lies are lies of omission, or basically the truth with one small detail left out.

She had spent the weekend in Clark Kent's apartment that was the truth. If others inferred more happened than what really did, that was their problem, not hers. Besides, Selina thought, she liked Clark, he was a good-looking guy and the same age as she was, 22. If he'd been a little less of a gentleman, who know what might have happened?

It would serve her purposes perfectly and might help with some other issues. The rumor that she had a thing for Batman had surfaced and while it was true she did, that wasn't something that went over well in her line of work. Letting it be known she was spending time with another young man might even make the Batman jealous, Selina mused and found she enjoyed that thought very much.

Who knows, it might even help Clark, Selina justified to herself. He'd just broken up with Blondie, so being linked with Selina could only help his reputation with the opposite sex. Now all's she had to do was find him. Checking the clock, Selina saw it was three in the afternoon. He was probably at work, although she didn't remember the name of the place. He'd told her, but she hadn't been paying that much attention, more focused on the fact that he was a reporter than anything else.

There was probably something in his apartment with the place's name on it, she thought. It would be a simple matter to pick the lock and find out. If it was a newspaper, they might even have a local gossip section, she mused. It was mostly the truth, and Selina warmed to the idea.

She glanced down at the bandages still on her arms and legs and realized she was going to have to dress down a bit to cover them up. She would still make it work though, she thought with a smile.

* * *

Gotham – Wayne Manor

Thomas 'Tommy' Elliot had finished his exam and things were looking good for both Dinah and Ev. Their wounds were healing and now it was just a matter of time and rehab. Dinah still had an uneasy feeling about Tommy. Something about him just seemed off to her, as if he were hiding something. She kept these thoughts to herself seeing as how he pretty much saved her life by operating on her, but the feelings were still there.

The other man in the room, she found much more interesting, Bruce Wayne. Like most people she had a picture of him in her mind from the media, but seeing him in person was completely different. He was very charming and good-looking she had to admit. Combine that with being a billionaire and it wasn't that hard to imagine he had more than his share of success with the ladies. She had a feeling though there was more to him than what the public saw.

On their walk down from her bedroom, she had felt the muscles in his forearms and noticed his hands were callused like someone that did manual labor. He also seemed much brighter than he let on. It was almost as if he were hiding behind the playboy image. Why she had no clue, but it was the impression she had.

She watched as he shook hands with Elliot. They obviously had known each other for a long time. Alfred again offered to show Tommy out only this time Ev piped up and said she would join them. She had wanted to check out the cars in Mr. Wayne's garage and thought this would be a perfect opportunity. Alfred seemed less than pleased with the idea, but he graciously indulged her but it would be under his supervision, of course.

Dinah found herself alone with Bruce Wayne.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing so well,' he offered.

"Thanks to you,' she replied.

"No, not me,' he said, waving the suggestion off. "I'm just the rich guy that happens to own the house."

"I think you're being a little too modest, Mr. Wayne,' Diana offered.

"It's Bruce, remember?" He said. "I'm not being modest, Dinah, I'm just acknowledging the efforts of others more than mine. Tommy performed the surgery, Alfred's been the one to see to all your needs, not me."

"You're not who you appear to be, are you, Bruce?' Dinah asked. He stood very still waiting for her to continue. "The image you have in the media as a playboy, that's just an image, isn't it?"

Bruce smiled and moved a bit closer to her.

"It serves it's purpose,' he replied. "I do own a large corporation, remember? If people think I'm only some rich playboy that gives me the advantage of lower expectations. Plus it's not all an image, I assure you, some of it has been earned over the years."

"I can imagine it has,' Dinah said with a smile. He returned it with one of his own.

* * *

Gotham – Derive Offices

After a quick incursion into Clark's apartment, Selina had the address of his work place. She spent considerable time getting dressed, but finally decided on just what to wear. Hailing a cab, she arrived fifteen minutes later at their front door. Dressing down meant something different to Selina than most people. Casadei Mid-Calf Boots, dark wash Black Orchid Motorcycle Leggings, white seamless spaghetti straps cami top, Alexander Wang Cropped Leather Bomber Jacket and Black Noir Leather Wayfarer Sunglasses.

Walking in the building she breezed by the brightly smiling young receptionist without a word and headed towards the main offices. Everything was very fung shui and modern she noticed, lots of glass and open spaces. The fact that it used to be a rubber plant seemed to be something they were desperate to hide. She didn't see Clark among the many people that were staring at her, but she did see that cretin Jerry from her building trying to hide in the crowd. Well, Selina thought, he's so afraid of me he'll probably piss himself if I talk to him, so I might as well have some fun.

Smiling she started to cross the room and Selina could hear the receptionist scampering to inform someone of her arrival. Selina kept her eye on Jerry. He started to move away from her, trying to hide.

"Jerry, don't make me come after you,' Selina said. "You know that wouldn't end well for you."

Jerry stopped and turned to face her.

"H-Hi, Selina,' he offered and then quickly corrected himself. "Miss Kyle."

"Good boy, Jerry,' she replied with a smile.

"Can we help you?" A voice said behind her. Selina turned to see two young men, probably in their early thirties approaching her. She gave them a quick once over, noticing the expensive wristwatches they both sported that stood out against their otherwise casual attire. It was an expensive; almost forced casual she noted and figured they must be the ones in charge.

"I'm Aubrey Denton and this is Joshua Canfield, we're the owners,' Dent said. "Can't we help you, Miss?"

Selina stepped closer to the two and lowered her sunglasses just a bit.

"I don't know, can you?" She replied. "I'm looking for one of your employees Mr. Denton and Mr. Canfield."

"Please, call us Josh and Dent,' Josh said with a smile.

"Right.' Selina said dryly. "Anyway, could you let Clark Kent know Selina Kyle is hear to see him, please?"

"Kent? You're here to see Clark Kent?' They both said, not seeming to believe her.

'Yes, is that a problem?"

"Tall, young guy, that Clark Kent?" Dent asked

"Yes,' Selina replied. "Tell him Selina Kyle is here to see him. That's S-E-L-I-N-A and K-Y-L-E. Got it?"

"Oh, we know who you are, Miss Kyle,' Dent said with a small, nervous laugh.

"Then it should make things easier, shouldn't it?' Selina responded.

"Um, well, Clark's not here right now, Miss Kyle,' Josh stated.

"Where is he?"

"He's on assignment with Vicki Vale,' Josh informed her.

"Really,' Selina said, taking a step closer to the two men. "And where exactly are they now?"

"Um, well, ah, that's sort of confidential," offered Josh.

Selina smiled and stepped even closer to them.

"Oh, come on, 'Josh - Dent', you can tell me, Clark's a friend."

The two men nervously looked at each other and then back at Selina.

"They were going to do some interviews and will probably end up at the Iceberg Lounge,' Dent finally said.

"See? That wasn't hard at all,' Selina replied with a smile. "Thank you."

She started to walk away, but then turned and looked for Jerry. He had taken the opportunity of her talking with Josh and Dent to get as far away from her as he could.

"Today's your lucky day, Jerry,' Selina called out to him. He made what sounded like a little yelp of fear and this only made Selina laugh. She headed out the door without looking back.

* * *

Gotham – Wayne Manor

Dinah found the full sized gym and pool in the west wing of the mansion. Of course Alfred had appeared as if out of nowhere with appropriate attire for each. How he knew her size was a little disconcerting, but it was nice to get out of the robe and hospital gown.

Once she changed she started with a series of stretches. Her back was sore and didn't want to cooperate, but she pushed past the pain. After about twenty minutes of this, she switched to the weights. That's how Ev found her, struggling to do twenty reps with 50 pounds.

"You have a funny way of enjoying being in a mansion, sweetie,' Ev said, as she helped Dinah set the bar back in place. 'Must people would hit the kitchen or the home theater, not sweat up a storm in the gym."

"I need to get better,' Dinah replied slowly sitting up and gasping for air.

"I don't think killing yourself will accomplish that,' Ev countered.

"I wasn't working out that hard,' Diana objected.

"Honey, you're a classic type A personality, over-achiever,' Ev said. "You always overdo it. That's who you are."

"You make wanting to get better sound like a bad thing,' Dinah replied.

"It is if you try and do it all in one day."

"I wasn't." Dinah protested, but as she started to stand up, her back had a different opinion. She couldn't stop the groan that came from her lips.

"Your witness." Ev joked with a smile.

"Oh, shut up."

Dinah mopped her face of the sweat that was pouring off of her. It shouldn't be this hard, she thought, but she was exhausted from just this short workout.

"You know Bruce is over in the pool swimming laps,' Ev suggested.

"So?"

"I think he likes you,' Ev teased. "Even Alfred noticed it. Oh, by the way, don't call him Al, that's strictly a no-no."

"What are you trying to do, fix me up?' Dinah asked.

"Well, Duh, yeah," Ev replied. "Have you seen this place and him? Rich handsome billionaire, hello?"

"How come you're not making the move?" Dinah countered. "You were shamelessly flirting with him earlier."

"Saw that huh?" Ev said. 'I'll admit I'm interested, but he's really not my type. You on the other hand would be perfect for him."

"You're unbelievable,' Dinah said dismissively.

"Unless you're still hung up on someone else,' Ev suggested with a smile. "You called him, didn't you?"

"Who?" Dinah said, feinting ignorance.

"Oh, come on, you stole my phone, Di, you called him,' Ev replied. 'Sounds to me like you got yourself a little crush, don't you, honey?"

Dinah glared at her, but Ev just kept smiling.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

Gotham – The Iceberg Lounge

Clark like most of us has his good qualities and his bad. Spending the day alternatively pretending to be a tough guy or a photographer with Vicki Vale was testing his patience considerably. Usually spending an entire day with a beautiful woman wasn't something he would complain about, but today he felt completely useless. He was basically a prop for her reporting. The fact that she was basically asking people questions about him didn't help matters.

Now they had arrived at the Iceberg Lounge and the memory that someone in this place had offered a reward to take him out was fresh on Clark's mind. Crane had tried to collect, but as far as Clark knew he wasn't the only one that would take up the offer. So as they entered, he could help feeling a bit pissed at whoever ran this place.

The sun was just setting as they entered. The club was just opening and the crowd was sparse. Between photographer and tough guy, Clark knew which he was in the mood to play in here. He followed Vicki as she headed towards the VIP section. Security guards stood in her way. She turned to Clark before they reached them.

"The guy we're going to talk to his Oswald Cobblepot, also known as the Penguin,' she explained. "He owns the place, but no one calls him the Penguin to his face, Clark."

"Why do they call him the Penguin?"

"You'll see in a moment." Vicki replied. "Just follow my lead."

"I have been all day."

Vicki took another look at him, but then turned her attention back to the security guards.

"This area is private, off limits,' one of them said as they stopped the two at the door.

"Do you know who I am?" Vicki asked.

"Sure, you're that hot reporter from the television station,' the man replied. "Look even better in person baby."

"Thanks,' Vicki said, although her tone was rather sarcastic. "Tell your boss I'm here, would you. He'll want to see me."

"He said no interruptions,' the guard replied with a leering smile. "Maybe if you dump the kid though, we could show you a good time?"

Clark took a step forward and the guards turned towards him. Vicki quickly got between them.

"I don't think Oswald's paying to make decisions for him, guys,' she quickly said. "Probably better for you if you let him know I'm here."

The guards seemed to think about this for a moment.

"All right, but you two wait here."

"Of course."

The guards took another look at Clark and then went into the private VIP room. A soon as they were gone, Vicki turned to him.

"Did you forget you're only pretending to be a tough guy, Clark?' She asked.

He would have liked to tell her he hadn't been pretending and would have taken both guards out if she hadn't stepped in, but that wasn't such a smart idea. Instead he tried to play it off.

"I was just playing my part, Vicki."

"A little too good if you ask me."

The guards returned.

"Mr. Cobblepot will see you in a moment,' they informed her. "He said to make yourselves comfortable in his personal booth and he'll be out in a minute."

"Thank you."

Vicki turned and started walking towards the booth. Booth guards openly leered at her, then turned and smiled at Clark.

"No hard feeling, right kid?"

The man extended his hand to Clark. Clark took it and felt the man try and squeeze just a bit too hard. Clark smiled and applied some pressure of his own.

"No hard feelings,' he said, giving the man's hand a healthy squeeze that caused the guy to wince before letting go. He followed Vicki to the booth.


	23. Chapter 23

The Spanish Prisoner

Gotham – Wayne Manor

Bruce was used to eating alone when he was home. For all his reputation, he rarely had dinner parties or social events at the mansion. He dined out, usually in the best restaurants where he was sure to be seen with the latest model or actress. That was to further his reputation as a billionaire playboy. The few times he did have dinner guests at the mansion they ate in the dining room at the dining table, which sat 20. So as he entered the kitchen and found Alfred, Ev and Dinah setting up for a meal on the small, utility table and a place set for him, he was a bit non-plussed.

It was a simple meal by most standards. There was antipasto to start, fresh slices of mozzarella, tomatoes, olives, roasted peppers and proscciuto over a bed of baby greens. A large bowl of angel hair pasta covered with a fresh tomato basil sauce, still warm breadsticks fresh from the oven and 2005 Darioush Merlot Napa Valley from the wine cellar. There was coffee brewing if anyone wanted it.

Bruce found it strangely intimate, sitting at the small table. The two young women were his guests while they recuperated, so his role towards them was different than usual. While they were both exceedingly beautiful, he never forgot they came from that shadow world of spies and espionage. They had sharp minds and he suspected Dinah was rather good at spotting falsehood. This left him with a rather different role to play. The easy going, casual playboy mask he wore as second nature in public wouldn't serve him well in this situation. He still flirted with Ev in a mostly playful manner, but he suspected Dinah was looking deeper. While she was unfailingly polite and grateful, he'd noticed she always seemed to be watching him almost as if she were trying to reconcile the public image of him with the fact that he assisted Batman and was the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation.

It meant he had to perform a balancing act of maintaining the casual, playboy façade, but allowing enough of his real self to show through. He displayed a working knowledge of what was happening in the world while remaining detached enough to find humor in it. The idea wasn't to give any hint of his alter ego, but to show that he was a serious minded young man when the time required. In a way he found it the experience rather surprising and enjoyable. He was giving Dinah glimpses of the real man underneath all the masks, yet controlling just how much of him she saw.

* * *

Dinah didn't talk that much, leaving it to Ev and Alfred to carry the conversation. Doing her best not to be too obvious, she was studying Bruce Wayne. Until recently she had an image of who he was in her head. It was mostly what everyone in the general public thought. Now that she was in his home and saw him from a closer distance, the two images of him didn't align. She sensed there was more to Mr. Wayne than he let on. It was almost as if he were putting on an act not just for her benefit, but everyone not named Alfred Pennyworth.

It wasn't the same troubling feeling she got around Dr. Eliot. With Eliot it felt like he was wearing a pleasant mask to hide a darker side. Could Bruce Wayne be hiding too, she wondered? Was she missing something? Was the pleasant, generous man sitting at the same table really just a lie to cover something else about him he didn't want anyone to know?

Stop, Dinah told herself.

She knew she was doing it again, letting the shadow world she'd lived in affect how she saw everything. It was the same thing she'd done with Clark. She'd tried making the pieces fit even if the simplest explanation was probably the right one. Not everyone was hiding some dark secret she told herself. The world wasn't just a giant web of interconnections. Not everyone's motive was suspect. There were good and decent people that weren't out to gain her trust simple to take advantage of her.

If she was ever going to get truly free of her past, Dinah knew she was going to have to start trusting again. As hard as it was after being burned as badly as she'd been, she couldn't let it strangle any chance for a life she still might have. Taking a piece of the fresh bread, Dinah decided she would begin now. She would try and trust someone, Clark to be specific. Even after what she'd put him through, he hadn't hung up on her. So maybe he hadn't given up on them having a chance to be more than just acquaintances. Instead of constantly pushing him away and questioning his every action, maybe it was time she took a chance and really got to know him.

Maybe another first step would be to trust Bruce Wayne. He'd been nothing but generous to her when he didn't have to be. He'd probably helped saved her life, so whatever secrets he might have, she would let him have them.

"More wine, Dinah?' Bruce asked with a smile. He held the bottle raised waiting for her answer.

"Yes, please, Bruce." She replied with a smile.

"While you're pouring, swing that bottle over this way,' Ev chimed in. "And be a little more generous with it than Alfred."

"Not all wine is meant to be gulped, Miss Ev,' Alfred replied. "Some you savor."

"Sure, but is there a rule against savoring a full glass?' She retorted holding her glass out for Bruce to fill. Alfred just shook his head and continued eating as Ev smiled in satisfaction.

* * *

Gotham – Iceberg Lounge

First impressions? Clark didn't like Oswald Cobblepot. Admittedly, he was a bit prejudice since it was Cobblepot in all likelihood that had put the bounty out on him, but he had a feeling he wouldn't have liked him even without that.

First instincts? Kick some ass in this place and let them know whom they were dealing with. Let them see just how 'super' the guy everyone was calling Superman could be. At 22 that seems like a good plan. Guys tend to be filled with testosterone at that age. It's why soldiers are young and generals are old.

Clark was like most guys his age in this regard, but he also realized that things had changed for him and now he had other concerns to consider. Realistically he could probably beat the living crap out of pretty much everyone in the bar. As tempting as that thought was and it was tempting, Clark had to ask himself what it would accomplish? If recent events told him anything it was that he still had a lot to figure out about this whole hero business. He froze and it nearly got Dinah and Ev killed. Watching people get shot wasn't something he had experience with.

As he looked around the club, Clark realized probably most of the security guys had guns. He wasn't sure at this point if they would affect him, but he knew they would everyone else. Vicki was sitting with Cobblepot and there were innocent waiters, waitresses, bartenders, bar backs and a whole host of staff that would be put in harms way. He knew he was fast, but Clark had his doubts about whether he was as fast as a speeding bullet. He was absolutely sure he wasn't faster than several volleys of bullets. If he gave in to his first instinct it would just be reckless and more about his ego than anything else.

There was also the fact that he would be telling Cobblepot and everyone else who he was. Vicki Vale was here trying to find out everything she could on Superman, so if Clark suddenly started tossing guys around it wasn't a great leap to think she would put two and two together. She was a reporter looking to make a name for herself as a serious newswoman. She barely knew Clark at all, so it didn't take much imagination to realize she would run with the story. Everyone would know he was the one they were calling Superman. That would put everyone at work and in his building in harm's way.

As tough as it was, Clark knew he had to keep a low profile. If he was going to continue with this hero business, it couldn't be about his ego. It had to be something simpler than that. Clark actually already knew the reason and it was the one he'd told Dinah. He wanted to because he could.

So as he looked at Cobblepot and saw his smarmy grin, Clark tamped down those first instincts. It was damn hard, but he had to make sure no one made the connection between Clark Kent and Superman. Maybe someday in the future he'd be ready for that, but now he was still too new at all of it.

* * *

Vicki Vale gave Oswald Cobblepot her best smile and laughed politely at his attempt at being witty. In actual fact, Vicki loathed him. When he shook her hand with his cold clammy paw, she had to fight the urge to wipe it off on the seat afterwards. She cringed a bit as he flirted with her, but she pretended he was charming.

Vicki had certainly heard the rumors, that's she'd only gotten her foot in the industry door because of her looks. She also knew if that's all she had; she'd still be a weekend weather girl at some small station. Vicki certainly wasn't asking for anyone's sympathy, but being attractive had been a double-edged sword for her. On the one hand her looks got her in, but on the other that's all most people saw. The fact that she aspired to be a serious reporter seemed to confuse most people. They figured her dream job would be something like The View.

Vicki had taken the job at Derive because she knew it was a start up and they needed a well-known face to launch their ambitious plans. Since she was the face that gave her leverage. It meant she wasn't going to be stuck covering society events or entertainment stories exclusively anymore. She had complete editorial control over what stories she did at the magazine and to her that was worth more than money. Vicki had accepted having someone with her as a condition this time, but that was only so the owners wouldn't put up too much of a fuss.

As Cobblepot talked, Vicki glanced over at Clark. He was standing non-intrusively to the side, but close enough that everyone knew he was with her. He took pictures occasionally, of what she had no idea. She'd picked him because he'd already done research for her and seemed the best alternative to a bodyguard. Clark seemed to get his role in this and play along, which she liked. The last thing she needed was some macho douchebag acting all overprotective and ruining her story.

Giving him a second look, as Cobblepot continued Vicki had to admit spending the day so far with Clark hadn't been bad at all. Even in his rather loose fitting clothes, Vicki guessed he was in pretty good shape. He wasn't bad looking and would probably be consider good looking if he fixed himself up a bit. He was like most of the young people that worked behind the scenes at the magazine, taking business casual to the extreme. She guessed he probably didn't have much money so she cut him some slack on his wardrobe. She did find herself wanting to run a comb through his hair though. It's not like a comb costs that much and even if you're poor you could take a moment to use one. Maybe she'd buy him one when they finished for the day. Those thoughts would have to wait. She needed to start directing the interview and Cobblepot towards the subject she was here for.

* * *

Oswald Cobblepot, The Penguin, knew Vicki Vale found him unappealing. In fact he knew most beautiful women like her found him unappealing. He wasn't one of those men that delude themselves into believing otherwise. Oswald knew he wasn't handsome or charming, although the latter was a little harder to admit.

What he did have on his side was he was smart and ruthless. A lifetime of experience had taught him that money and power could overcome a lot, even physical shortcomings like his. In a way those experiences had shaped him into the man he was today more than anything else. Henry Kissinger had once said Power is the ultimate aphrodisiac. As Kissinger was a seriously unattractive man himself, Oswald took it as sage advice.

Oswald liked Vicki Vale. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, she was, but she was also much smarter than people believed. Most beautiful women would play nice to him until they got what they wanted, not Vicki. She seemed to know he was a valuable person to know and would continue to be valuable in the future. She might not like him the same as the rest, but she didn't allow it to bleed over into an overt way towards him. She was always cordial and friendly, but never pretended to lead him on. Oswald could appreciate that so he was more willing to play this polite game with her than most. The fact that if he gave her information from time to time it would put her in his debt also helped. It was the sort of realpolitik Kissinger would appreciate.

So the game played out, everyone accepting their roles in it and then the wild card shook up the board.

* * *

The front doors opened and Selina Kyle made her entrance.

"Oh boy,' Clark muttered to himself when he saw her. He knew this couldn't a coincidence, so that meant she was up to something. When their eyes met and she smiled, an uncomfortable feeling began to grow within him.

* * *

Selina was one of those people that instinctively knew how to make an entrance. She knew everyone was looking at her. It didn't bother her in the slightest. Standing at the entrance, Selina let her eyes move over the small crowd, taking in everyone but continuing until she saw who she was looking for, Clark. Their eyes met and she smiled. She noticed he seemed a bit fluster by this, which she never tired of seeing.

Taking her time, Selina crossed the main floor straight towards him. As she hoped, Cobblepot was there and watching her. His business involved information, so it worked perfect with her plans. Usually she didn't like anyone knowing anything about her life or plans, but the situation required it this time. Cobblepot definitely knew about Zsasz's attack on her so letting it be known she spent the weekend with Clark would kill any rumors about how things went with Zsasz.

Selina had also noticed Vicki Vale. They'd crossed paths a few times and Selina wasn't fond of her. She didn't like reporters in general, especially nosey ones like Vicki. This time though, her being front and center for Selina's little performance would be a plus. Who gossips more than reporters, Selina thought? This was working out even better than she planned.

As she neared their table, Selina turned and acknowledged them for the first time.

"Penguin, Red."

"You know I hate that name, Selina,' Cobblepot replied.

"I know,' she said with a smile.

"It's Vicki Vale, not Red, Ms. Kyle,' Vicki corrected her.

"Uh-huh."

"Use it." Vicki stated flatly.

"My, a little snippy today, Red, girdle too tight?" Selina relied.

Vicki was about to reply, but Cobblepot beat her to it.

"What do you want, Selina? I'm busy as you can see."

"I'm not here to see you, Cobbie, I'm here to see Clark,' Selina replied.

"Who?' Cobblepot asked.

"What?" Vicki gasped, turning to glance at Clark.

He'd been watching this all unfold and had to wonder if everyone except him knew each other in Gotham? Clark could feel first Selina's eyes, than Vicki's, then Cobblepot's and finally the rest of the club turn to look at him. The uncomfortable feeling that started when Selina walked in suddenly got much worse. He stood holding the camera in his hands as she walked towards him. He could feel everyone eyeing him with interest.

"Wh-What are you doing here, Selina?" He managed to ask.

"I came to thank you for this weekend and take you out to dinner as a way of saying it, Clark,' she replied, making sure her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You already thank me,' Clark said. "Dinner's really not necessary."

"I insist,' Selina replied as she got closer to him. 'You were great this weekend and I want to show my appreciation."

Clark had a feeling the way she said it she was implying something other than what happened. He also notice she said it loud enough for everyone to hear. She was up to something, but he wasn't sure what. These thoughts were momentarily cut off as she kissed him again. He had to admit she was a great kisser and it took him a moment after it ended to remember what he wanted to ask her.

"Um, ah, what's going on, Selina,' he whispered as she hadn't dislodged herself from his arms. "What's this really all about?"

"Why does it have to be about something?' Selina replied. "Can't I just want to say thank you?"

"You said thank you in front of your door, remember?" Clark pointed out. He almost blushed at the memory of almost falling down the stairs after she thanked him. Focus, Clark, focus, he chided himself. "Anyway, now you're making sure to say it in front of a crowd of people too. That's why I have to think you're up to something. What?"

"You know most men wouldn't care why I kissed them, Clark,' Selina replied. She cocked an eyebrow in something of a challenge to him. "What's your deal anyway?"

"I didn't say I minded or didn't like you kissing me either,' Clark countered. "I just suspect you're doing it for a reason other than you find me irresistible. So what's the real reason?"

Well, what the hell do you know, the farm boy surprises me again, Selina thought with a smile.

"Agree to have dinner with me and I'll tell you,' she offered. "Deal?"

"Okay, but I have to wait for Vicki to finish,' Clark replied. "It's my job."

Selina didn't like it, but agreed.

"Okay, meet me at Hecht's in an hour and a half,' she said.

"I'll be there."

"Oh, by the way, have you mentioned what happened this weekend to anyone yet?'

"No, why?'

"Promise me you won't until we talk, Clark,' Selina requested. "Please?"

The look she gave him was calculated to play on his sympathy. It would very well.

"All right, I won't say anything about this weekend."

"Good. Now don't be late,' she said. "I know where you live, remember?'

Clark smiled, but Selina had already turned towards Cobblepot and Vicki.

"So what are you kids discussing? She asked.

"None of your business." The both replied at the same time.

That was sort of a challenge to Selina so she stopped and moved over to their table.

"That's was rude,' she said. "Let me see if I can guess."

Selina looked around and then slowly lifted her eyes to the glass ceiling and smiled.

"It's got to be about the guy that smashed through your ceiling,' she said. "Twice wasn't it, Cobbie? Red's got a thing for men in costumes, don't you?"

"It's Vicki Vale."

"Right,' Selina replied. "That has to be it. You wouldn't be here with Cobblepot if it weren't. So Cobbie, did you tell Red about how you put a bounty out on this Superman and it blew up in your face with Crane? Kind of got caught with your ass out on that one, didn't you?"

"What?' Vicki said, turning to Cobblepot and ignoring Selina's Red comment.

Cobblepot grumbled under his breath in irritation at Selina. Unfortunately it sounded like a penguin, which only reinforced his nickname in everyone's mind.

"I'll take that as a no,' Selina said. "I guess you two have a lot to talk about, don't you? Bye Clark, see you later."

Selina gave him a smile and a wave as she headed for the exit. Vicki didn't watch her, but turned to Cobblepot.

"Is what she said true, Oswald?' Vicki asked. "How much was the bounty?"

"It's a lie and this interview is over, Miss Vale," Oswald snapped. "Good day."

Vicki tried to stop him, but his security guards were already hustling him away from the table and back to his private office. Vicki sighed in frustration. She crossed her arms in front of her and turned to stare at Clark.

"You want to explain the connection between you and Selina Kyle, Clark?" She demanded.

"Um, well, we live in the same building,' he offered. "We're neighbors."

Vicki just kept staring at him, not buying or liking it.

* * *

Gotham - Hecht's

One hour and twenty-five minutes later, Clark walked into the restaurant. It was a family run place only two blocks from his apartment building, but he'd heard it had great food. The smells coming the kitchen made his stomach rumbled as he was shown to Selina's table. She glanced at her watch and then smiled as he sat down across from her. There was a bottle of red wine and some food already on the table. She seemed very comfortable as she took a sip of her wine.

"I think they forgot to give me a menu,' Clark commented, as he turned to get the waiter's attention.

"I got hungry so I ordered for both of us already,' Selina informed him.

"What if I hadn't shown up on time?' Clark asked.

"You're a man of your word, aren't you, Clark?' She replied, a bit of a teasing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I like to think so,' he offered.

"Good, so it all worked out,' she said happily.

"So what am I having?"

"You're looking a little thin with the way your cloths are hanging off you,' Selina observed. "I figured you're a little poor right now and I know what's that's like so I ordered you the biggest, thickest steak they had with a baked potato."

"Thank you."

"No problem,' she said dismissing it. "Maybe it will remind you of eating back home. I imagine you eat pretty good on a farm."

"We did."

"Wine?"

Clark nodded and Selina poured him a glass. Their salads came along with another basket of fresh rolls.

"Dig in,' Selina said, as she set her glass down and picked up her fork. Clark's stomach rumbled a bit so he followed her lead.

The last hour or so had been a bit uncomfortable for Clark. The ride back in the taxi with Vicki had only been the beginning. She had a million questions about how Clark knew Selina Kyle. It was very apparently she didn't like her. She even warned Clark about getting involved with someone like Selina. He explained again how they lived in the same building and were neighbors. Because of his promise he didn't say anything about the weekend, even though Vicki made it obvious she wanted to know everything. Once he got back to the office it was the same thing from everyone there. He repeated the story several times, even using Jerry to corroborate it for him that she lived in their building.

Now he was sitting across from Selina and his curiosity was peaked. He wanted to know what she was up to.

"So?" He finally asked.

"So?" She replied, breaking a roll in half and buttering it.

"You said you'd tell me the real reason for all this at dinner, remember?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for the weekend, why is that so hard to believe?' She replied.

"Because you practically admitted at the Iceberg Lounge that wasn't the reason, Selina,' Clark countered. "I kept my promise, so what is this all about?"

Selina set the roll down and sat back. She didn't like explaining herself, but he had kept his part of the bargain.

"Okay,' she reluctantly began. "I allowed you to help me this weekend and I do appreciate that. That's part of the reason, although if you tell anyone I'll deny it."

"What's the other part?'

Selina took a sip of her wine before continuing.

"If people knew I wasn't at 100 percent this weekend, they'd think it was a sign of weakness,' Selina slowly explained. "You show weakness and people will try and take advantage of you."

"There's nothing wrong with showing weakness and needing help once and a while, Selina,' Clark said.

"Maybe in the Farmville Shangri-La you grew up in there isn't, Clark, but this is the big city,' Selina replied.

"It's Smallville,' he corrected her. "That's where I grew up."

"Yeah, I'm still not buying that one either,' she countered. "That's like saying you're from Tiny Town or something."

"It's a real place, Selina, I promise,' Clark replied. "So this is all about not appearing weak, is that it?"

"Yes." Selina nodded.

"Is it so horrible to show you're vulnerable once and awhile?' He asked.

"Look, I grew up in this town, Clark. I know how things work,' Selina said. "I wanted to give a certain impression and that's where you come in. I didn't lie, I just didn't tell everything. Is it so horrible to have people believe we spent the weekend together?"

'Well, no,' Clark admitted. "It does imply the weekend was different than it was. That's a lie, isn't it?"

"No, it's not,' Selina said with a shake of her head. "A lie would be we spent the weekend ravishing each other. I didn't say that we did. Now if people get that impression, that's their fault, not mine."

"That's sounds like a huge rationalization,' Clark replied. The image of them ravishing each other popped into his head and his eyes sort of drifted down from her face. He was a 22-year-old guy after all. He quickly chided himself for this and looked back into her eyes. She'd seen his eyes dip and smiled a rather wicked smile at him.

"See something you like, Clark?" Selina teased.

"Sorry, but it is a huge rationalization,' he said, hoping to changing the topic before he got too embarrassed.

"Call it a rationalization or a con, that's what life is, Clark,' Selina said.

"How do you figure that?" He asked.

"Where I grew up if you weren't playing someone they were trying to play you," Selina informed him.

"That's not everywhere,' he countered.

"Sure it is,' she replied. "Everyone's trying to con each other or themselves, it's just a matter of degrees to which they do it. Back at the Iceberg Lounge, you're friend Red was conning Cobblepot into thinking she didn't loath him. He was letting her because it makes him feel he has a shot. He thinks having a little power makes him a player, that's his rationalization. Red's rationalization is that her looks haven't got her where she is today."

"Her name's Vicki,' Clark stated. "She told me she hates the nickname Red."

"I know,' Selina said with a laugh.

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit,' Clark offered. "Yes, she's very attractive but that's not the only reason she's where she is today."

"Always the white knight standing up for the lady, huh, Clark?' Selina replied. "Sure, she's smart and probably good at her job, but give her a face that looks like it's been hit with a shovel and add 300 pounds and those other skills aren't getting her where she is now. Trust me on that."

Clark didn't really have a counter argument for hers, although he liked to think what she was saying wasn't true; he secretly thought it might be.

"That's two examples, that doesn't mean life's a big con game,' He offered.

"Sure it does," Selina stated. She nodded her head to the side to indication where he should look. "See those two in the corner booth over there? The guy is wearing a baseball cap indoors. He's bald, but he thinks with the cap on no one knows. She's got on Spanx and makeup, isn't that sort of a con too? The other knows this, but they've silently agreed not to break the illusion."

"If they know, then how's that a con?" He asked.

"Because each of us, like them, tries to present ourselves in a certain way to the world,' Selina explained. "We all wear masks, Clark. Where I grew up everyone knew it and was pretty up front about it. The rest of society might hide it better, but it's the same. You think those swells up at the Gotham Opera house aren't putting on a con for each other? They are, trust me, they just have more money to pull it off. You think your Congressman really cares about the people of his district or the ones that give him money? Life's a con, Clark. Someone like you lives his life and tries to be a good guy, what's his reward at the end? Death. If that's not a con, you tell me what is?"

"Wow,' Clark said, leaning back and just looking at Selina. "That's pretty cynical, Selina."

"I like to think of it as realistic,' she countered.

"Is that a rationalization, Selina?" He asked with a smile.

She didn't answer, but instead picked her wine glass and took a drink. The waiter came and placed their dinners in front of them. He asked if they wanted anything else, but they said they were good. After he left, Clark stopped himself from devouring the steak, as it looked delicious.

"So I noticed you didn't answer my question, Selina?" He said to her.

"Just eat your steak, Clark,' she replied.


	24. Chapter 24

The Black Ship

(_The Ballad of Kansas Bob_)

I sit here on the corner as you walk on by

You dip your umbrellas

So you don't see me rather than stay dry.

Some of ya may throw some change my way and it makes you feel good

As you keep on walking, muttering about what someone else should

Do about people like me,

Do about people like me.

Make them all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

But there's a storm coming and a black ship too

You can't see it

But it's coming right for you.

So lock up your doors and make peace with the Lord

Cause it don't care about your money or whether your heart it true.

It's a reckoning it's bringing with it

To all the people like you.

Make you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

Hide if you will

Behind high fences and walls

Pretending they separate you from the rest

A fool's game you'll realize after the fall

There's no divide, it's coming for all.

To do it's best

To make you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

You masters of the world

Take it all and leave none of the rest

How much is enough in your endless quest?

You think we haven't noticed

Well I'm here to attest

The black ship's a coming

Looking for redress.

To make you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

The black ship comes from out of the past

Flying the Jolly Roger on top of its mast

Echoes of it linger in its former ports of call

It rattled Versailles windows and stormed the Romanov's halls

So dance while you ignore the rest falling through the cracks

Cause once the fire starts

There isn't no turning back

Make you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

I'm nobody crying in the wind

A voice for the voiceless

Saying the black ship's coming in

Your privilege lives it will rescind

A new day it will bring.

Not before the blood starts flowing

And you feel wrath's sting

And then you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

* * *

And as the black ship

disappears out to sea again

with your dying breath you'll see

On  
It  
Is  
Me

* * *

Gotham

The Gotham Opera House lit up the night sky. Tonight was one of the social events of the season and pretty much anyone that was anyone would be here. Security was tight; the street had been closed off to ordinary traffic. Only those with a golden ticket were allowed past the barricades. Police officers in riot gear guarded the perimeter and kept a small group of protesters far away from the patrons so they didn't have to look at or hear them.

The next limo in the seemingly endless line pulled up to the red carpet. Ushers moved quickly to open the back door. A young couple glided out from the interior, smiling for the cameras they expected to be taking their picture. Local reporters for the papers and television shout questions about whom they're wearing, to which the wife happily replied. Each item of their clothing scream haute couture and easily cost thousands. You could imagine a copy of W magazine being displayed on their marble topped coffee table that they'd first seen in the same magazine. With teeth as white as money could buy they smiled and started for the entrance. The wife happened to notice a disheveled man sprawled out on the sidewalk holding a guitar and singing. The smile slipped from her face.

"You'd think the police would send their best men tonight, but they let that tramp get through,' she whispered to her husband. "God knows who else they'll let through."

The husband never stopped smiling. He reached into his pocket and took out a fifty-cent piece and tossed it to the man before gesturing to the security.

"Why did you give him money?' The wife asked. "He'll probably just use it for drugs."

"Call it my good deed for the day,' the husband replied. "Plus it got security's attention and they'll get him out of here."

"I wish they'd just make people like him disappear,' the wife bemoaned.

"They will darling, they will,' the husband said. "Now forget about him and let's enjoy the show."

"Can you believe they're doing The Threepenny Opera? What were they thinking?"

"Who know? It's got Mack the Knife it it, I like that number,' the husband replied.

"Well, I guess there is that,' the wife conceded.

* * *

Gotham

Rupert Thorne mopped the sweat from his brow as he hustled up the stairs of the nondescript building. He nervously rang the bell repeatedly, glancing up and down the street as he waited for the door to open. He rang the bell again, as if to will those inside to answer it. He could feel the sweat pitting out his shirt and running down his spine.

"Come on, come on, answer the God damn door,' Thorne grumbled.

He rang the bell again. After what seemed like an eternity to him the door finally opene. He wanted to rush inside and see Mannheim, but the security men stopped him. They went through the usual procedure. After he was frisked for weapons and wires, he was finally escorted to Mannheim's office. The sweat only intensified as he stood in front of the huge desk and the doors were closed behind him.

"Sit down, Rupert, you sounded upset earlier when we talked,' Mannheim said. "Tell me what you couldn't over the phone."

Thorne didn't feel like sitting, he was too nervous and frightened. He couldn't seem to stand still and began to pace.

"Just spit it out, Rupert."

Thorne turned and wearily looked at Mannheim.

"It's about the rifles,' he finally said.

"The five hundred pulse rifles I sent you?" Mannheim replied. "What about them? They were delivered as promised."

"I know and thank you,' Thorne said with a nod of his head. His voice was barely above a whisper when he continued. "But something has happened to some of them."

"Something? What Rupert?" Mannheim demanded.

"Some of them were stolen,' Thorne admitted.

"How many?"

"Two-Two hundred."

"You just let someone walk in and steal some of the most advance pulse rifles round out from under you?' Mannheim asked, his voice growing louder with each word.

"I didn't let them, no,' Thorne replied. "I had guards all around the place, but if he's who I think it is, he's crazy. He doesn't care about normal things like that, he just does what he wants. Crazy, like I said."

"He does what he wants?" Mannheim repeated. "Maybe I should be dealing with him instead of you?"

"You don't deal with him,' Thorne replied. "Nobody in their right mind tries to deal with him."

"I assume you're trying to get them back?" Mannheim asked as he stood up from his desk and moved around it towards Thorne. He towered over the smaller man.

"I'm trying, I really am,' Thorne quickly said. "It's just that finding guys to go against him is hard. Everyone knows his reputation and they don't want any part of him."

"This is not good, Rupert, not good at all,' Mannheim said. "Your weakness makes me look weak. I can allow that, do you understand?"

"That's not true, Mr. Mannheim, I promise," Thorne babbled.

"I'm afraid it is, Rupert,' Mannheim replied. "People will start thinking you're more afraid of this other fellow than you are of me."

Mannheim suddenly grabbed Thorne's hand and held it on his desk. Thorne struggled but couldn't break the bigger man's hold.

"What-What are you doing?" Thorne gasped.

"Making you afraid, Rupert."

Mannheim pulled out a switchblade and in one violent slash cut off Thorne's index finger. Thorne screamed in pain, as his blood started to gush all over the desktop. Mannheim stepped back and wiped the blood off his knife before putting it away.

* * *

Metropolis – Later

Bruno Mannheim was an out and out psychopath. As the leader of Intergang, he was also one of the most powerful gangsters in Metropolis and several other cities. He inspired fear in his followers as well as his enemies. What few knew about him, was that Bruno had his own boss that he answered to, the real leader of Intergang and the provider of all those amazing weapons and gadgets. There were few people Bruno Mannheim feared, but as he walked into his office and saw the older, white haired woman sitting behind his desk he felt a chill run down his spine.

The door closed behind him and he turned to see one of the woman's assistants. She was an abnormally tall, very striking woman dressed in all black, except for what looked like a series of strategic metal bands that wrapped around her body. There was a smile on her face, but nothing about it said friendly.

"Sit." She said, more of a command than a request.

In the next moment she was standing behind the older woman, casually leaning against the bookcase. She moved with a fluid grace that belied her size. Through hooded eyelids she just stared at him. Mannheim sat nervously.

"It's good to see you Granny,' he offered.

"Is it Bruno?' The older white haired woman asked. "You seemed a bit nervous when you first saw Granny. Guilty conscious, perhaps?"

"No, no,' Bruno quickly replied.

"Trouble with your new assignment then?" Granny ventured.

"No."

"You wouldn't lie to Granny, would you, Bruno?" Granny asked. "Lashina here doesn't like it when people lie to dear old Granny."

The tall woman in black smiled even wider, the soft hiss of her electrified whip suddenly filling the room as she slowly shook her head back and forth.

"There's been a problem, Granny,' Mannheim said, as he kept an eye on the other woman. "It's not on my end, but in Gotham. I'm handing it as we speak."

"What's the problem dear?"

"Some of the guns were stolen from Thorne,' Mannheim admitted.

"Granny doesn't like that, Bruno,' Granny said. Her voice still had that sickeningly sweet tone, but it was cold as ice. "You were told to cause trouble in Gotham. We wanted chaos in that city, not within the ranks of our agents. Perhaps Granny should leave Lashina behind this time as an observer in Gotham?'

The abnormally tall woman gave Mannheim a wicked smile that sent another shiver through his bones. He quickly fumbled for his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. The tall woman watched him, alert if he tried anything. Mannheim saw this and slowed his actions. He set the cloth down on the desk and opened it to reveal Thorne's severed finger.

"You see Granny, I've already dealt with the one responsible for the lost,' Mannheim quickly said.

The two women leaned forward to look at the finger. Both smiled a bit more at the sight of it.

"While I like it, Bruno, that still doesn't replace the stolen guns,' Granny observed. "Their loss diminishes our ability to spread chaos in Gotham."

"Not necessarily Granny,' Manheim replied. "The man that stole them is a nut and chaos is his middle name."

"I still think Lashina should stay and perhaps go to Gotham as an observer,' Granny coldly stated.

"That's-That's not necessary, Granny, I've got it under control."

"I insist,' Granny replied. "What is this man that stole my guns called, by the way?"

Mannheim swallowed nervously as he looked from one woman to the other.

"Joker."

* * *

Gotham

The performance was over and the celebrity filled crowd mingled in front of the building. Flash bulbs continuously popped, as the paparazzi furiously worked their trade. As part of the night's celebration, cannons on top of the building began shooting fireworks, streamers and confetti into the air. As the first bang drew everyone's attention up towards the night sky to watch as the fireworks exploded in a multicolor displace, no one at first noticed the confetti wasn't paper, but colored shards of razor sharp glass.

This changed immediately as it rained down on the audience members, the press and security. Screams began to fill the air as shards sliced and gorged into flesh turning the once glittering event into a scene out of a nightmare of blood. Panic ensued and quickly turned into chaos. The screams and shouts came from every direction.

Behind the barricades where the security had escorted him, no one paid any attention the vagrant troubadour as he slowly walked away playing his guitar. As the first sirens wailed in the distance, he stopped under a streetlight and looked back. Under the brim of his wide hat an unnaturally large smile spread across his ghostly white face. Against the din of noise no one heard his maniacal cackle as he turned and continued on. He began singing again as ambulances and police cars rushed by towards the scene.

* * *

Make you all disappear, disappear, disappear.

And as the black ship

disappears out to sea again

with your dying breath you'll see

On  
It  
Is  
Me


	25. Chapter 25

Intangible

Gotham

Midnight had come and gone. A steady rain drifted down through the stillness. Yellow police tape and hastily erected sheets of plastic blocked off the damaged entrance to the Opera House. The local authorities were done with their investigation, but the Batman wasn't.

Broken glass crunches under his boots, as he sifted through the debris for any clues. Blood was everywhere; the pock marked stone promenade and steps, the twisted railings, even in the air. It mixes so heavily with the rain he could almost taste the iron oxide. He gingerly picked his way among the ruins, haunted by the memory of the screams and cries he first heard over his monitor.

Usually he would have been in attendance at an event like this. As one of Gotham's most well-known citizens and members of its elite society, certain social obligations were expected. In years past he would have, but instead this year he'd been at home enjoying just talking in his study with one of his two recovering guests, Dinah Lance.

As he let his eyes moved slowly over the blood stained shards of glass, the streamers limply strewn over everything, he knew he'd been less than vigilante as the Batman. The easy excuse was that he had to be careful around the two women in his house, but he wouldn't allow himself the easy way out. The harder truth was he found himself attracted to Dinah and the past that seem to haunt her. While he knew parts of it, she was still something of a mystery to him. He'd let that interest subtly alter his normal vigilance. Now he stood in the results of those alternations.

He already knew who was responsible even before he arrived. The random, senselessness of all of it and the sheer horror it caused told him more than if the Joker had left a signed confession. The press had dubbed him the Clown Prince of Crime, but that was a misnomer, he was really an instrument of Chaos. His acts of violence and cruelty weren't means to an end, but the act was the end in itself. The scene around Batman told him so much. The shards of glass disguised as confetti was meant to inflict maximum injuries, not deaths. Too many deaths and there wouldn't be enough survives to bare witness. That was the motive, to create witnesses to the chaos. The horror they endured and witnessed all around them would spread like a virus as they told their tales. People would be frightened and some would panic which led to more chaos and panic.

The rain hadn't washed away all the blood; instead it had caused it to become little rivers that flowed down the Opera House steps towards the gutters. It left streaks in its wake, like snail trails as a reminder. The people that died or were injured tonight were his people, not Batman's but Bruce Wayne. He'd grown up in this social circle and had shaken hands or shared a joke with many of them at one social function or benefit. The illusion of a classless society was something America prided itself on, but it was just that, an illusion. Anyone that has spent even one day in any school knows this.

These people went to the same private schools, lived in the same exclusive neighborhoods, were members of the same clubs and attended the same parties as others in their elite social circle. If you weren't born into it, you probably didn't even know you would never be invited in. Bruce's family had been part of Gotham's elite for generations. Now the people of his social circle overflowed the hospitals. Ten were dead and a still uncounted number were injured. Bruce could already envision the aftermath. An endless parade of funerals stretches out in front of him. He hadn't been here to save them, so he would be there to grieve for them one. The handshakes and hugs, the hollow words of sympathy and the endless grief of the love ones, he would be there for all of it. It was one of the obligations that came with being part of this elite society.

His people had died in his city.

* * *

Gotham – Derive

The following morning found the magazine a hive of activity. While they were focused more on national and international news and culture, the attack on the Opera House was too close to ignore. The closer a tragedy is geographically the more you feel it. It might not make sense, but it's the way things are. The entire staff of Derive's main office lived in Gotham. They had all walked passed the Opera House and some had even met a few of the people that had been there last night. The names of the victims were as well known as the streets and buildings they adorned throughout the city.

No one called off sick today. Perhaps it's something built into our DNA, but when something tragic happens all the latest, most amazing technology in the world isn't a replacement for simple human interaction. Being able to look into another person's eyes, to talk about what happened, your fears and worries or even something as simple as reaching out and touching someone else has yet to be replaced by anything better. So as the day went on, people just seemed to linger with each other a bit more than usual. Those that had formal offices, found themselves opening their doors and leaving them for the more communal areas of the building.

It was these emotions that brought Vicki Vale to find Clark. Because of her unique position at the magazine as its face, she had been for the most part removed from the rest of the staff. She was also suffering a bit of new job syndrome. Vicki had made friends at her last job. It was just that once she left that job and get a new one, the connections with those old friends lessen. You find you're not as interested in the office gossip now that you're not there. Those old friends aren't as interested in what's happening at your new job either. You're running on different tracks, so it's easy to drift apart.

There was also the fact that Vicki hadn't been at the magazine that long, so it only added to the outsider feelings she was experiencing. The owners were the ones she spoke to the most, but they seemed to be groping their way through this like everyone else. She was wrestling with the same emotions everyone else was and needed to just talk to someone. Shew wasn't that different than the rest, at 25 she only a few years older than most, yet her position seemed to add distance between them. As she looked around the office she realized the person she'd spent the most time with out of everyone in the building was Clark.

She watched him for a while. He as sitting in his little cubbyhole they called an office, but occasionally he would stop to talk to those that wandered in. He was as new as Vicki was, but he'd apparently made friends with many of the other workers. As it approached the lunch hour, Vicki found herself walking across the large common room towards him. She was holding a coffee cup in her hand, but hadn't taken a sip from it for almost an hour. It was something of a prop, cause she didn't know what to do with her hands. She wasn't sure what she would say; she just felt the need to talk to somebody. She stopped just outside his office and waited for him to look up.

"Hi."

"Hi" He replied. "How you holding up?"

It was a simple question, something he'd probably said several times before, but it gave her the opening she needed.

"Not so great,' she admitted, taking another step inside.

He slowly got up and moved around the desk and offered her a seat, as he leaned against the front of his desk, his hands in his pockets.

"It's been a rough day for everyone,' he said.

Vicki sat down, still holding her coffee cup in her hand. She absently crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt with the tips of fingers.

"I know some of the people that were there last night,' she offered. "I met them through my last job."

"At the paper?" He asked.

"Yeah,' she replied, giving a feint smile. "I was put on the society beat when I started, so I would get all dressed up and stand out in front of those parties and interview the guests as they arrived. It didn't pay that much, like most first jobs. It was always the usual questions, who are you wearing, why is tonight important to you or your foundations, stuff like that. I think the editors just figured a pretty girl would look nice in the photos."

"It was a job though, a foot in the door,' Clark gently replied. "Besides I'll bet your were good at it"

"I suppose,' Vicki said with a small shrug. "I wanted to be a reporter and do hard hitting news stories and here I was playing dress up and interviewing the rich and famous."

"I can think of worse ways to start."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it was exciting,' Vicki admitted. "I mean I was right out of college and it all seemed so glamorous at first. I was rubbing elbows with the mayor and Senators, captains of industry and the cream of Gotham's elite society. Most people would kill for a job like that."

"But not you, huh?" He asked.

"No, not me,' she admitted with a small smile.

There was a rap on the door before either could say any more. One of the other workers glanced in and then looked at Clark.

"Lunch time, Clark, some of us are heading down to the Metro if you want to join us,' he said. "Hi, um, Vicki, um, you can come too, if you want."

He didn't wait for an answer but moved off to catch up with the others. Vicki suddenly felt self-conscious like she was holding Clark up.

"I'm sorry, if you have lunch plans I'm holding you back,' she said as she started to get up from the chair.

"No, you're not holding me back from anything,' Clark replied. "I actually brown bagged it. This is my first job, remember?'

Vicki smiled as she stood in front of him. An idea formed in her mind and she just went with it.

"Would you like to have lunch with me, Clark?" She asked.

"I, ah, I'm kind of broke at the moment,' he reluctantly admitted.

Vicki's smile got a little bigger.

"I'll pay this time, what do you say?" She asked. "I remember what living on a first job paycheck is like."

"As long as it's only this time you pay, I guess okay,' Clark replied with a smile. "I don't make that bad a salary, really. It's just moving cost a lot more than I expected so I'm a little short at the moment."

"Uh-huh,' Vicki replied. "Oh, you're girlfriend's not going to mind is she?"

Clark knew she was teasing him.

"I told you before she's not my girlfriend, we're neighbors,' he stated.

"Interesting don't you think? I didn't even mention her name and you immediately thought of her?" Vicki said, baiting him.

"We're neighbors, that's all."

Vicki smiled at him for a moment and then turned towards the door.

"Let's go to lunch, Clark."

* * *

Gotham

Rupert Thorne sat behind his desk staring down at the bandage on his hand. Mannheim had cut off his finger as some sort of lesson. The lesson Rupert took from it was that eventually he was going to kill Bruno Mannheim, but not just yet. His weapons were too valuable and Rupert needed them to shift the balance in Gotham, but he wasn't one to forgive or forget. His primary goal was still to take over the city from Maroni and Falcone. He would let those two hotheads deal with the Joker for him.

Rupert had been thinking hard about it since Mannheim left. He wanted to get the Joker for stealing from him and causing him to loss his finger, but now he realized he could use him too. The Joker had some of the pulse rifles. If Rupert just waited a little while until he used them then further attacks would be blamed on the Joker. That would leave Rupert's men free to stir up as much trouble as they wanted between Maroni and Falcone and they would both blame the Joker. As the two crime bosses' tempers were legendary, they would want revenge. The three would fight it out and for Rupert it really didn't matter which one came out the winner. They would be wounded and easy prey for him to move in and take over everything.

Only then would he get his own revenge against Mannheim. The man was an outsider to Gotham and for all his fancy hardware; he just didn't know the city like Rupert did. As he sat back and lit up a cigar, Rupert had visions of Mannheim down on his knees bloody and broken, begging for his life. Rupert smiled and exhaled a stream of smoke as he imagined pulling the trigger that ended Mannheim once and for all. Who knows, after it was done, Rupert Thorne might just move onto Metropolis and fill the void Mannheim's death would create.

* * *

Gotham – Wayne Manor

Dinah stood at the kitchen window looking out into the backyard. She was feeling a little stronger today, but her mind wasn't on her own problems. Bruce had been out walking around the large private lawn for the past hour. She had seen all the news reports about the attack. It didn't take a huge leap to know some of those injured or killed were probably friends of Bruce Wayne's. She knew a little about losing friends and loved ones, but she didn't really know that much about the man standing out in the garden. He had opened his home up to her and Ev while they recuperated and for that she would always be grateful. Now though, she felt like she wanted to do something, say something to help him, she just wasn't sure what.

"Is everything all right, Miss Dinah?'

She turned to see Alfred standing behind her.

"Hmm? What?' She asked.

"I asked is everything all right, but clearly it isn't,' he said. "Is there something I can do to help you?"

"Oh, it's not me I was thinking about, Alfred,' she replied. Dinah gestured towards the gardens. "I was wondering how he's doing after what happened last night?"

Alfred moved over next to her and followed her glance out towards Bruce.

"As well as can be expected, miss,' Alfred offered. "Master Bruce knew many of those injured and killed. He was supposed to be at that event last night, so I would imagine there's some guilt over not being there. Like all of us he's dealing with it in his own way."

"Do-Do you think he'd want to talk about it?' Dinah tentatively asked. "Or should I just leave him alone?"

"I'm sure he'd appreciate the offer either way, Miss Dinah,' Alfred said with a kindly smile.

Dinah nodded and then slowly opened the back door. She was still recovering, so her movements were slow, but she made her way outside and down the patio steps. Alfred stood at the window watching, a small smile on his face.

"A-chooo!"

Alfred picked up the tissue box and held it out, but didn't immediately turn. A hand reached for the tissues and grabbed a couple.

"Thank you,' a rather stuffed up voice said.

"You're welcome, Miss Ev,' Alfred replied.

"My head feels like it's going to explode it's so full,' Ev moaned. "Isn't it bad enough I've been shot without getting a cold on top of it?"

"Life is unfair at times."

"Is there any coffee?' She asked, sniffling and sneezing again.

"Of course, there's also hot soup if you would like it,' Alfred replied.

Ev leaned and gave him a quick hug.

"Thanks, Alfred, I'd kiss you, but I don't want you to catch what I've got,' she stated.

"I appreciate the gesture, Miss Ev."

"So what are you watching that's so fascinating?' Ev asked, glancing out the window as she poured a cup of coffee. She saw Dinah walking towards Bruce. "Oh."

"She's offering her sympathies,' Alfred explained.

"Right, the explosion at the Opera House last night,' Ev replied. "He knew a lot of them probably, huh?"

"Yes."

"Must be tough,' Ev offered.

She moved over and stood next to Alfred as she took a sip of the coffee. They were both looking out the window at Bruce and Dinah. Ev leaned in and nudged Alfred's shoulder with her shoulder.

"She kind of likes him, you know,' Ev said to Alfred.

"I believe Master Bruce likes Miss Dinah as well,' Alfred replied.

"That's good," Ev said. "She needs someone like him after being hurt by all the secrets and lies she'd had to deal with in the past."

This time Alfred didn't respond.


End file.
